


Victims of the Game

by SizzleShorts



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-31 16:26:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SizzleShorts/pseuds/SizzleShorts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though opposites on nearly every scale, Jean and Marco have been the best of friends since they began high school together, but as they start their freshmen year at the Three Saints University, they learn that the college experience is anything but simple, especially with unrequited affections running amok.</p><p>
  <b>[DISCONTINUED].</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Rocky Start

**Author's Note:**

> [College/Modern AU, prompt from the SNK Kink Meme.] Rating may change.]

 

~~.~~

Like most teenagers, Jean Kirstein hated many things; high school, slow pedestrians, being yelled at by his mother for eating junk food (seriously woman, that crap kept him alive most of the time), and last but not least, public transportation. The order of the list often varied, but right now public transportation was number one on the list of things that Jean hated.

The city buses were ironically the lesser of two evils, as they were less likely to stall out at every red light than the school's crappy buses, which nowadays looked like they were being barely held together by Elmer's Glue and the collective self-loathing of it's passengers.

Jean's first day of freshmen year at Wallgate City Public School was off to a fantastic start; so far he'd overslept by a half hour (meaning his breakfast had consisted of a cold pop-tart he snatched from the pantry as he raced out the door), he'd left his mp3 player on his nightstand so now he had no way to drown out his new teachers while they did their welcome-back-to-hell speeches, and despite being mid-august, today was the coldest and rainiest day Jean had ever lived through.

Thankfully he'd gotten on the bus before it had started raining, but he had no umbrella or raincoat with him, meaning he'd get soaked to the bone while walking that last block to the school. Fan-freaking-tastic. All that time picking a decent first-day outfit last night would be completely wasted. So much for impressing Mikasa Ackerman...

"U-um, excuse me, is this seat open?" a voice beside him pipes up, and Jean lifts his head off the cool glass of the window to tell his inner monologue interrupter to take a damn hike, but he pauses before the words can leave his mouth.

The speaker, it turned out, was a short, scrawny boy who looked about Jean's age with a round face full of freckles and floppy black hair, the bangs of which were framing his face. He was soaking wet, with a skimpy umbrella folded up in his hands and dripping onto the floor, and Jean knew that saying no to this kid right now would feel a lot like kicking a puppy into traffic.

"Sure," Jean shrugs before sliding over in his seat to make more room, and the freckled boy beams, his entire face lighting up as he settles himself and his damp book bag down into the vacant seat beside him.

"Thanks," he tells Jean as the bus slowly lurches forward again. The motion briefly bumps him up against Jean, who can faintly feel the him shivering through his thin jacket, "I missed the school bus so I had to take this one... Didn't have time to grab my raincoat either." Jean just raised an eyebrow in reply, wondering if this kid was new to the city and didn't know the general 'don't talk to me it's too early' routine or if he was just that rare breed that genuinely enjoyed making small talk with random strangers.

"If you catch a cold don't get me sick too," Jean mutters under his breath. The freckled boy didn't seem to hear him and instead holds out his hand towards Jean, giving him another enthusiastic smile.

"I'm Marco Bott, by the way!" the boy introduces and Jean sighs under his breath before shaking his hand. Even Marco's damn gloves are soaking wet.

"Jean Kirstein," he replies, and Marco is still smiling (does he ever stop?) as they both settle back into their seats.

Twenty chilly and damp minutes later, Marco and Jean climb off the bus, and Jean stares at the black clouds swirling around in the sky, really not looking forward to having to walk that last block. The rain has stopped falling for the time being, but Jean knows as soon as he steps out from under that bus stop shelter, it's going to start coming down again with a vengeance.

"We can share my umbrella if it starts raining again," Marco says beside him, and Jean jumps a little because he'd completely forgotten that Marco was there. "It's a little small but it's in one piece at least." Jean says nothing, partially because Marco's flimsy umbrella was better than nothing but mostly because Jean still can't figure out why this kid hasn't stopped smiling. Marco's seemingly permanent cheerfulness was seriously clashing with his bedraggled look right now.

"Sure," Jean grunts , resisting the growing urge to just ditch school and spend all day in the warm comfort of Mike's Coffee and Cafe, which was about a five-minute walk away from here. Seriously, just thinking about the cinnamon rolls they served there was making Jean's mouth water and his lack of a proper breakfast wasn't helping at all.

"Jean, you coming?" Marco's chipper voice breaks Jean from his thoughts of playing hooky, and Jean sighs before trudging after the freckled boy, trying to ignore the uncomfortable squelching of his sneakers.

By the time they reach the school, Jean was seriously regretting choosing it over Mike's. Marco's umbrella had kept them fairly dry when the rain started up again, but during the course of the entire walk Marco had not shut up for even a second.

Jean now knew that Marco had moved to Wallgate City recently from a town (or was it county?) called Jinae, he knew about all the people living in Marco's household, all the past and present pets Marco could remember owning, what his former school was like and how much he missed his old friends from there, all his favorite things ranging from food to color to songs to friggin' month, and what classes he hoped he'd have this year.

Though he had in fact listened to every word Marco said, Jean hadn't contributed much to the conversation other than a nod or the occasional grunt of acknowledgement but Marco had just kept beaming and chattering away, and it wasn't until he noticed the sudden silence that Jean finally looked Marco's way and was surprised to find the freckled boy blushing brightly.

"S-Sorry Jean, guess I haven't really shut up since we got off the bus, huh?" Marco says quietly. He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, still blushing, and it actually makes _Jean_ feel guilty for being irritated.

"Nah, it's cool," Jean replies sincerely. People with constant smiles and mile-a-minute talking were usually very high on that ever-growing list of Things Jean Hates, but Jean supposed that he would be willing to make an exception for this weird freckled kid. "So, you used to have a dog named Jean, huh?"

Marco's face lights up again as he enthusiastically nods, and this time Jean can't help but return his contagious grin with a small smile of his own.

.~.

It's been an hour since they got to school, and Jean is now certain of three things; having a litter of younger siblings means that Marco now possesses the patience of a saint, the high school's breakfast food is just as grossly unappetizing as the middle school's breakfast food, and their homeroom teacher Ms. Hanji Zoe is a complete and utter _psycho_.

The bespectacled brunette woman had seemed normal for about the first two minutes of class. Then, she'd actually started cooing affectionately to the two potted plants (her ferns were named Sawney and Bean so yeah, she was nuts) sitting on her desk rather than addressing the class full of students, and the majority of said class was now pretty convinced that she'd tunneled her way out of an asylum two days before being hired at the school.

One-by-one they'd been called up to her desk to retrieve their class schedules for the year, and Jean quickly snatches his and Marco's sheets of paper up and gotten as far away from her as he could. He returns to his seat beside Marco, who'd been smart enough to pick the table at the back of the room which were conveniently closest to the heaters, and the two exchange their schedules for comparison.

They had homeroom, third period (Biology with none other than Ms. Zoe, Jean realizes with a jolt), lunch, and fifth period (gym with Coach Shadis) together.

Marco is beaming again, going on about how relieved he is to have gotten most of the classes he wanted, and Jean occupies himself with the all-important task of balancing his pencil on his nose while Marco chatters away. They still have twenty minutes before the bell rang, and Jean is content to just settle back and warm himself up by the heater.

But as the fates would have it, there is always something to damp a sudden good mood for Jean, and the latest unfortunate revelation is that two of Jean's friends from middle school apparently share homeroom with them, and they make their presence known by slamming the classroom door open, but judging by the sheepish looks they throw Ms. Zoe's way, they hadn't intended to make such an impression.

Sasha Braus and Connie Springer. They were two of the most rambunctious if not lovable idiots that Jean had ever befriended, but even to this day he wonders why and when the hell he'd befriended them anyway.

He spots them only a few seconds before they notice him, leaving him with no time to hide behind his book bag, and their faces split into wide grins as they gallop towards him.

Sasha looks the same as ever, with her reddish-brown hair tied back in a high ponytail and three pieces of toast in each hand. Connie's gotten a few inches taller than since Jean last saw him, though he's still shorter than Sasha, and for a split second Jean hadn't recognize that it was him because his floppy mess of black hair had all been buzzed off over the summer.

Luckily for Jean, they seem to decide en route to their table that hounding Jean's new freckled friend would be much more fun that hounding Jean himself, so at least he's now free to just sit back in his chair and just grin when Marco shoots him near-panicked looks between Connie and Sasha's dozens of questions.

Marco's literally saved by the bell just as Sasha asks Marco how many marshmallows he can stuff in his mouth, and Connie darts off to retrieve their book bags while Sasha hurries to finish off her toast before following him. Marco is silent as they retreat, and judging by the stunned but pleased look on Marco's face, they're all friends now.

"Looks like this'll be a pretty fun year, Jean," Marco remarks as he slides his schedule into the front pocket of his Pokémon binder, and Jean stuffs his own folded schedule into his back pocket before nodding in agreement. In spite of the rocky start and multiple classes with Ms. Zoe, Jean had a feeling that this would be a pretty good year indeed.

 

~.~

Well Marco definitely jinxed it or something because so far this year friggin' _sucked_. They were about halfway through the school year now and pretty much everything that could go wrong for Jean up until this point had gone very wrong.

He hadn't made the final cut for the school's football team (he lost the spot he wanted to some bulldozer named Reiner Braun), he'd nearly thrown up a dozen times in Biology because Ms. Zoe insisted on having the class dissect something every other week, and Mikasa Ackerman had barely given him the time of day since the start of the year.

The object of Jean's affection instead spent most of her time outside of class with two of her childhood friends; a scrawny geeky boy(?) named Armin Arlert and a guy named Eren Jaegar, and Jean found out very quickly that he did not get along with Eren. At all. The guy was a complete jackass, and considering that Jean himself was a self-aware jackass, that was really saying something.

Worst of all, Jean had lunch and four of his five classes with Eren, and if it hadn't been for Marco being in most of those classes to keep him calm, Jean probably would've gotten suspended by now for knocking that goddamn grin off of Eren's face. But with Marco there to always calm him down with a pat on the shoulder or a few encouraging words, Jean can resist the urge to knock Eren's teeth out for at least another day.

"You just need to learn to pick your battles more carefully, Jean. Eren's really not such a bad guy if you two would just try starting over," Marco is saying as they sit at the bus station one afternoon. Jean just gives him a noncommittal grunt and goes back to waiting for the bus, his mind wandering back towards Mikasa.

He'd probably have a shot with her if she and Armin weren't shadowing Eren all day, which of course was another reason Jean hated Eren. He literally walked to school with a golden opportunity, and he didn't take advantage of it even for a second. Jean would've killed to have someone like Mikasa always trailing after him, with her beautiful black hair and her gorgeous eyes and her adorable freckles and her-

Wait, freckles? Mikasa didn't have freckles! Blinking, Jean pulled himself from his thoughts and he was immediately aware of Marco still chattering on beside him.

"-not like he's _always_ the one picking the fights you know, and I partnered up with him in Biology that week you had the flu - remember that Jean, you caught it from Franz? Anyway, I partnered up with him and he's actually a pretty nice and funny guy. I mean yeah, he gets a little loud sometimes and he stabbed the turtle we were dissecting too much so Ms. Zoe had to give us a new one. But then she put the old one in her purse which was kind of really weird but ever since Sawney and Bean wilted over Christmas break she's been acting a little stranger than usual. So anyway, after we got a new turtle I asked Eren why-"

Ahh, so that must've been why freckles had crossed his mind. Marco's incessant babbling about Eren was being a major but subconscious distraction to his inner turmoil.

"-and he wants to join the military for some reason. I don't really get it, and Armin says that he doubts Eren'll really go through with it, but it's cool that he's already planning so far ahead. It makes me wonder what I-"

"Oi, Marco, you're interrupting my damn daydreaming," Jean snaps over at him, and Marco draws his head back with a look of surprise. He sighs, sounding more exasperated that upset at least, and the two of them sit in silence until the bus finally pulls into view.

 

~.~

He'd probably never admit it out loud, but Marco had what was probably the cutest collection of younger siblings that Jean had ever seen. The fact that they all looked exactly like their eldest brother somehow made it all even cuter.

Marco was the oldest of the Bott brood at sixteen-years-old. After him were ten-year-old twin boys named Marcus and Mark (Jean could only tell them apart because Marcus was missing a front tooth), a seven-year old girl with pigtails named Marcella, and the baby of the bunch was a three-year old boy named Nicolas.

Ironically, it was the last name listed that makes Jean burst into laughter, and afterwards he'd spent an agonizing hour trying to convince the crying toddler that no, he wasn't _technically_ laughing at him and no he didn't think his name was stupid so please stop crying Nicolas before your mother hears it and hurts me!

He finally works his way back into the three-year-old's good graces, but the downside is that the second Nicolas had forgiven him, the boy had latched onto Jean's leg and now he couldn't get the toddler to let go.

"He'll let go on his own," Marco's father (who looked just like Marco except he had a thick goatee and no freckles) informed him with a hearty laugh that shook the whole room, "Until then you'll just have to bear with it!"

Even Marco - who had looked more flushed than usual during the whole ordeal - hadn't been able to pry or blackmail the small child off of Jean's leg, and so Jean just quickly adjusted to having to take wide steps around the child, who simply giggled and clung on tighter as he rode Jean's foot. He'd only let go when they were all called to eat dinner, and even then Marco's mother had to come get him herself with promises of an extra bowl of desert.

Jean also learned that night that their distant cousin who lived with them was weird as hell, and Jean had no qualms about admitting that out loud, though he sure as hell wouldn't say it to her face.

They'd just finished a fantastic dinner and were halfway through a desert of the most delicious chocolate pudding pie Jean had ever tasted when the back door suddenly slams open and a tall girl strides in, causing Jean to nearly jump out of his seat. The family around him hadn't so much as flinched, so apparently this sort of thing was a very common occurrence.

"Sorry I'm late," the girl grunts as she kicks the door shut behind her, not sounding even mildly apologetic, "Missed the bus so I had to take a cab, remembered halfway here that I didn't have any money left so I had to jump out at a red light and haul ass home. So, who the hell is that sitting in my seat?"

"Please watch the language, Ymir," Mrs. Bott sighs with a fond but thin patience, "Marcus has already picked up too many words from you."

"Marcus don't cuss 'til you're older. So what's the deal with Undercut over there?"

"Ymir, this is Jean Kirstein, he's a friend of mine from school. Jean, this is my cousin Ymir," Marco introduces warily after giving Jean an apologetic frown, but Ymir just shrugs her jacket off and shoots Jean an indifferent glance.

"Cool," Ymir replies, nearly shoving Jean out of his (her) chair as she leans over the table to swipe a bowl of the pudding, "Glad you finally made a friend, Marco, but if you two do the dirty, don't forget open a window and use a condom."

"YMIR!"

Marco's parents both shout at the grinning girl who's hastily jogging from the room. The twins have burst into laughter, Marcella is just staring at them curiously, Nicolas is nose-deep in his pudding, Marco's sinking down in his seat with a bright red face and Jean now wants to crawl under the table because who the hell says something like that during a first meeting?!

Jean rubs his face with an exasperated and embarrassed sigh, going to eat another bite of pudding but then he feels a light tugging on his sleeve. He looks down to see Marcella looking up at him with wide eyes full of curiosity and he feels a flicker of fear when she opens her mouth.

"Mis'er Jean, what's a condom?"

Marco's parents stopped yelling at Ymir about ten minutes ago but Marco's still muttering "sorry about my cousin" while Jean sets up a makeshift bed on Marco's floor and Marco's still blushing so much that Jean's surprised he hasn't pass out.

They're a half-hour into playing the latest Assassin's Creed game now and the redness has finally faded from Marco's face, so of course that's when Ymir shows up to toss a box of condoms into Marco's lap and ruffle his hair, saying something along the lines of Marco being on the road to manhood now, and Marco just lets out a squeak, his blush coming back with a vengeance.

Having gotten over his own initial embarrassment, Jean now finds the whole damn thing hilarious.

He spends most of that summer at Marco's house with him and his dark-haired, freckle-faced family, playing countless hours of video games, babysitting the younger kids, and eating the best home cooked meals Jean's had in years. His weekend visits become so routine that Mr. Bott eventually moves one of their spare sleeper sofas into Marco's room and Ymir has willing scooted her chair over to make room for Jean at the table.

It's without a doubt the best summer that Jean and Marco have ever had.

 

~.~

Marco, it seemed, made friends a hell of a lot easier than Jean ever did, and Jean still isn't sure how he feels about that. Sure, he was friendly now with the vast majority of Marco's new collection of buddies, but at the same time most of them had met Marco before meeting Jean, and now hanging out with all them made him feel a bit like a third wheel. Or ninth wheel... Tenth wheel? Whatever.

The fact that Marco had gone and invited Eren and his dynamic duo to sit at their lunch table was bad enough itself. Now, the table that had previously occupied only Marco, Connie, Sasha and himself was now packed with four new people, and the table right beside them was just as packed with the rest of their new gang.

Jean now sat squished between Marco and Sasha, nibbling at his lunch while they chatted away with Eren and Armin about homework and upcoming movies. Mikasa sat across from them but Jean hardly had room to breath let alone talk to her without at least three eavesdroppers listening in.

Sitting beside Mikasa was Christa Lenz, one of the cutest and smallest girls Jean had ever seen. Marco had interrupted Jean before he could get his flirt on with her and quietly informed Jean that Christa was already on the verge of being in a relationship with someone else. Marco failed to mention _who_ exactly Christa might be dating, but his tone warned Jean not to question it.

On Christa's other side was Connie, who had spun around in his seat and was now having a rather vivid argument about Call of Duty with Reiner, the brutal linebacker for their football team who was actually kind of cool now that Jean had gotten to know him, and some tall, sweaty guy named Bertolt. Reiner's childhood friend, Marco informed him during their initial meeting.

Reiner is as loud as ever, grinning in spite of the bloody bandages taped across his nose (Jean was sure he'd heard Armin mention that it was the third time Reiner had broken it that year) but Bertolt was quiet, shyly contributing very little to the conversation while still maintaining a friendly attitude towards them.

Behind Reiner and Bertolt was Annie Leonhardt, another tiny blonde girl, but unlike Christa, Annie looked like she could break your arm with a flick of her wrist and then make you punch yourself with said arm. She scared Jean a little. Beside Annie was Mina, a preppy girl with two thick black ponytails draped over her shoulders. Mina was, for whatever reason, the only person besides Bertolt and Reiner than Annie had ever been seen willingly talking to, which, considering their very opposite personalities, is still a mystery of Jean.

Jean spends half of their first lunchtime together expecting Ymir to swoop down out of nowhere and shove Jean out of his seat with a well-aimed kick, but after voicing said thought out loud Marco tells him that Ymir went to a different school across town; she'd apparently been kicked out of Wallgate City public for beating up a few of the football team's former linebackers after they'd catcalled her, which Reiner confirms with a loud laugh, so at least that was one less person to suffocate him during lunch.

Honestly, Jean didn't know when the hell Marco had suddenly befriended all these people, or why they had to crowd around his table, but as he watches his best friend laughing and talking along with everyone else, Jean decides that he can get over it. Besides, it was their sophomore year already for most of them, so he could probably deal with these people for a little while longer.

Plus Mikasa was sitting at his table. How cool was that?

 

~.~

Marco has been to Jean's house only once in the two years that they've known each other, and it's quite possibly the worst experience that Marco can remember.

Jean wasn't expecting him to drop by that Saturday, which was probably why everything had gone so badly. But Jean had forgotten to return Marco's chemistry textbook before school had ended Friday, and with the homework due first period on Monday, it couldn't wait.

The Kirstein house is different than Marco imagined, though looking back the freckled boy wasn't sure exactly what he'd been expected. His home is a single-story brick house with a small yard with yellowing grass and littered with crushed beer cans.

It's a small shock compared to the huge, Victorian-style houses Marco is so used to being surrounded by, and he's feels a wave of uncertainty as he knocks lightly on the door. Maybe he should've just called Armin to get the information he needed-

The door swings open and Marco takes a step back from both the surprise and the sudden stench of alcohol that hits him. The man standing before him is huge, with thick arms protruding from his stained tank top that might've been white once. He has a thick beard, Marco briefly notes that it's the same two-toned colors as Jean's hair, and dark glaring eyes that make Marco feel two inches tall.

"Who're you?" the man slurs. Marco gulps, trying to smile politely while not wrinkling his nose at the stench coming off of the man. "The fuck you want, boy?"

"M-My name's Marco, and I'm a friend of Jean's from school. I just needed to get-" Marco starts, but he flinches back when the man suddenly bursts into laughter before spitting on the stoop near Marco's feet.

"Friend?" he repeats, giving Marco a crude sneer, "Ha! The hell're you friends with him for? That boy's too goddamn stupid to tell one ass cheek from another!" A sour taste fills Marco's mouth and he tries to swallow again but his mouth suddenly feels too dry.

"C-could I, um... just talk to him, sir? I need to get-"

"He ain't here," Jean's father growls, all traces of "humor" gone now. "S'take your scrawny ass elsewhere, boy!"

"But I-"

"BEAT IT!"

The door slams in his face and for a moment Marco just stands there. He can feel his hands trembling but he feels rooted to the spot, and his legs won't cooperate with his demands to move. Marco had always wondered why Jean never once invited Marco over to his house instead, but now it made so much sense.

Deciding that he should leave before Jean's father notices him still out here, Marco turns on his heel and quickly puts some distance between him and the Kirstein house. Marco would've never guessed that someone as great as Jean had such a brutish man for a father, and he can't help but cringe at the thought of his best friend returning to a place like this every night.

As he's leaving, he thinks he hears a muffled crash followed by slurred yelling, but he doesn't look back. It could've been coming from any of the run-down houses on this street, and besides, Jean's father said that he wasn't home, so wherever Jean was, he was probably safer there than here.

Jean comes to school on Monday with a fading black eye, and a few people hear him telling a concerned teacher that he'd gotten it while playing rugby with a few of his cousins. Connie glances back at Marco with a grim look and mouths a few words that make the freckled boy's stomach drop.

_Jean doesn't have any cousins._

It's then that Marco remembers the muffled yelling he'd heard outside Jean's house on Saturday and he suddenly feels like he could throw up.

 

~.~

He doesn't think that their mouths are angled quite right, and the hands resting on his waist feel a little awkward, but the taller boy's lips are so warm and his touch is surprisingly soft for such a big guy and Marco's face is still flushing when the two boys finally pull away from each other.

"That was... actually really nice," Marco finally says with a small hint of a smile, and the tall blond in front of him nods in agreement, still looking a little dazed himself. "Can...Can we do it again, Reiner?"

"I... uh, yeah," Reiner replies, flashing Marco a quick grin before pulling him into another soft kiss. Marco leans forward, not so much trying to get closer to Reiner as he is trying to push them further out of sight. The auditorium building is blocking them from the sight of those still on the football field, but that didn't mean that someone couldn't wander over and spot them.

First kisses don't seem like a big deal to Marco anymore - what mattered in the end was finding someone you love that you can share your life with. Compared to that, something quick like a first kiss is a ridiculous and trivial thing.

But as he kisses Reiner, the image of Jean's smiling face flashed through Marco's mind, and suddenly the whole thing feels dirty. It's not like this is cheating - he and Jean weren't even a romantic couple for crying out loud. Hell, Marco still didn't know if Jean had even figured out that he was gay! Besides, Reiner didn't seem to want to date Marco either. He just wanted to "see if he was" and judging by the way he's holding him now, Reiner was.

That's all this is, Marco reminds himself as the kiss starts to become a little more heated. He's just helping Reiner come to terms with his sexuality. Marco hadn't had anyone around when he finally realized that he was gay, and though his parents were aware and didn't give a damn, having someone his own age to help him through it would have saved him from a lot of long nights filled with doubt.

Reiner starts to pull him a little closer and Marco lets him. He doesn't even want Reiner the way he wants his best friend but at the same time this just feels so good...

He thinks he hears Reiner whisper Bertolt's name against his mouth when he pulls back for air but it's so brief that Marco can't be sure. Undeterred, Marco just starts to think of Jean again as Reiner pushes him back against the wall, the blond's mouth hot against his own.

Beggars can't be choosers, right?

 

~.~

They were doing it again.

They were in the living room, screaming and snarling at each other, and Jean only knows this because all the noise had woken him up. Sighing heavily, he stuffs his head under his pillow in an attempt to drown them out, but he can still hear his mother's screeching and his father's slurred hollers. He can't hear what exactly they're saying but it's probably about him. It's always about him...

He stays under the pillow for about ten minutes before he finally sits up and grabs his cell phone out of the drawer of his nightstand, pulling his blankets over his head before dialing the first number on his contact list.

"Hmm... Jean...? S'at you?" Marco answers sleepily after the fourth ring, and at the sound of his tired voice Jean feels really stupid for calling him at three in the morning, but if he didn't have some sort of distraction soon he'd wind up screaming right alongside his parents again.

"They're fighting again," Jean replies quietly, keeping his voice as low as he can so his father doesn't come charging into his room instead. There's a brief silence on the other end, and Jean hears the shifting of sheets and springs as Marco rearranges himself in his bed.

"Is it bad?" Marco asks quietly and Jean cringes when he hears the harsh sound of a glass bottle shattering against the living room wall. Marco must've faintly heard it as well because his voice is louder when he says "Jean, are you okay?"

"Y-Yeah," Jean replies shakily. He flinches hard when he hears the front door suddenly open and then slam, briefly mistaking it to be his own door. He didn't know if it was his mother or his father that just left but frankly he's too relieved that it's over to care right now. "I-I think it's over now, but they just..." he trails off again, his hand shaking, and he can hear Marco sigh quietly on his end.

"Maybe you can come over for the weekend, Jean," Marco offers, and the thought of being away from his personal hellhole for a few days was enough to loosen the knot in Jean's belly. "My mom's always saying you haven't been visiting enough lately."

"Yeah, okay..." Jean finally replies, listening to the comforting sound of the silence that now filled his house. "Thanks by the way, Marco... for putting up with me. Seems like my own parents can't even do that..."

"Well...that's really their loss, not yours," Marco assures him with a new tenderness in his voice. "You're really an amazing guy, Jean, even if they can't see that. You're funny and smart and very kind, even if you don't always like to show it. You made me feel welcome on my first day here, and you've been my best friend since, and I really li-... and, you know you'll always have a place here, with me and my family, s-s you shouldn't worry about the people who don't realize what an amazing son they have."

Jean sighs under his breath before smiling to himself, briefly brushing the back of his hand over his eyes when his vision started to blur. Marco was right; Jean still had him and the rest of the Botts, even if his own parents reminded him daily about how much of a burden he was on them.

"Thank you, Marco..." Jean whispers into the phone as exhaustion starts to grip him again. He curls up as he starts to relax again, and the fear of his father's swinging fists start to fade from his mind. "You're my best friend too..."

"G'night Jean," Marco replies tenderly, and Jean smiles again before hanging up and going back to sleep.

 

~.~

"Figuring herself out... What the hell is that even supposed to _mean _?" Jean growls under his breath before sipping bitterly from the Styrofoam cup in his hand. Marco, who doesn't really have an answer, just shrugs and takes another bite from the warm cinnamon roll in his hand.__

__Mike's Coffee and Cafe is comfortably crowded as always, full of teenagers and adults carrying on lazy conversations or working on homework assignments while partaking into their own hot beverages and snacks. Luckily Jean and Marco had gotten there before the after-school rush and claimed two of the plush armchairs in the far corner of the room. One of the few benefits of riding the city bus instead of the school's._ _

__"She pulled the whole 'we can still be friends' speech on me too," Jean continues, glaring at the half-finished essay he has pulled up on his laptop. "Which is a load of shit by the way, Marco - that's like someone shooting your damn dog and saying you can still keep it so don't ever fall for that."_ _

__"I'll keep that in mind, Jean," Marco sighs, setting down his cinnamon roll to resume the task of typing up his own essay for Ms. Zoe's class. "But I guess you should appreciate the sentiment at least."_ _

__"Whatever," Jean mutters in reply, and Marco glances over to see Jean's expression shifting from irritated to hurt. Marco feels a pang of sympathy; Jean had only been going out with Mina for a few months, but over the course of those months Jean had seemed so happy with her. Then again, Mina was Jean's fourth girlfriend, so Marco couldn't say that he hadn't seen that break-up coming. "Same thing happens every damn time I start to think that things are going well..."_ _

__Marco frowns, leaning over in his armchair to rest his hand on Jean's shoulder and give it a comforting squeeze. Jean glances back at him and sighs, but then he gives the freckled boy a small smile as well. Even after all these year a simple touch from Marco was enough to brighten his mood..._ _

__"You'll get through this, Jean," Marco assures him with a warm smile of his own, "Maybe Mina just wasn't the one for you, but that doesn't mean that the one's not still out there."_ _

__"Yeah," Jean shrugs, drumming his fingers lightly against the keyboard of his laptop before he looks back at Marco again and smiles, "Hey, maybe we'll actually find our 'ones' at the same time, Marco. Still haven't seen you with a girlfriend yet, you prude."_ _

__For a moment Marco stays silent but Jean turns his attention back to his laptop and misses the quick look of panic that passes over his face. Rather than answer, Marco just takes another bite from his cinnamon roll, which is suddenly dry and tasteless in his mouth._ _

 

 

~.~

"So, you going to finally tell him?" Ymir asks after dinner one night, and Marco nearly chokes on the soda he'd been drinking, cheeks burning brightly as he coughs it out. Ymir's face remains passive, one eyebrow raised as she watches her cousin from the beanbag chair that she'd dragged into Marco's room.

"W-what?" Marco splutters, wiping his mouth off on his sleeve, "Ymir, I can't just do that!"

"Why not?" Ymir asks, stretching her long legs out as she thumbs through a sports magazine with obvious disinterest, "You've been crushing on the guy since you were what, a freshman? What's holding you back?"

"I..." Marco starts but then he trails off with a heavy sigh, setting his soda can down and sitting on the edge of his bed. "I don't think he's... I mean, every person he's ever crushed on or dated was a girl, even though they've never lasted long, and if I tell him that I'm crushing on him, I could really ruin the best thing I've got going for me!"

"So what, you're just gonna pretend that you're not in love with your best friend?" Ymir scoffs, "Nearly every guy in her neighborhood wanted Christa, and she even went out with a few of them before I approached her. You think I didn't have any doubts when I confessed to her too?"

"That's was different... You're different," Marco mumbles, falling back against his pillow with another sigh, "I'm just not like you, Ymir. I'm not brave enough to risk losing him..."

"Whatever," Ymir sighs as she pushes herself to her feet and crosses the room, but her expression noticeably softens when she glances back at Marco, "But if you never say anything to him Marco, then you've done worse than lost him."

Marco doesn't reply and instead stares at his ceiling as Ymir leaves the room, mulling her words over in his mind. He'd give anything to be like her when it came to these things, to have the courage to just walk up to Jean and confess what he feels towards the younger boy, to tell him how he'd felt ever since the day Jean had shared that bus seat with him. But he wasn't like his cousin - she was bold and reckless while he was a damn coward, and right now, Marco just couldn't bring himself to ever risk what he had with Jean.

 

~.~

"What the hell does she even see in that jerk?" Jean growls under his breath as he shoves his chilling stew around in his bowl. Marco just sighs and pats Jean on the back with as much sympathy as he can muster. Yeah, Mikasa had been refusing or straight up ignoring Jean's advances since their freshmen year of high school, but she'd still remained single the entire time and apparently in Jean's mind, that had always been the silver lining of being constantly rejected.

But they'd hardly gotten through second period chemistry with Ms. Zoe - they were pretty sure now that she was switching the grades she taught just to follow their graduating class - when Mina had plopped herself down at their group's table to announce that Mikasa Ackerman and Eren Jaegar were officially a thing as of that morning. Marco had smiled at the news, genuinely happy for the new couple, but Jean had let out a loud squawk of disbelief while simultaneously snapping his pen in half.

Now, almost three hours later, Marco was stuck with a sulking best friend who had an apparent broken heart and an ink stain ruining the sleeve of his favorite red hoodie. Marco had no idea how to go about cheering him up, and Sasha and Connie, who sat across from them, were of course not helping matters at all.

"I can actually understand it," Sasha says around a mouthful of mashed potatoes. Marco quickly shoots her a warning look but Sasha either didn't notice or didn't care. It's impossible to tell with her. "Eren's rambunctious and loud, but he's actually a really sweet and passionate guy once you get to know him."

"Calling bullshit on that one, Sasha," Jean lifts his head to growl at her, "I've been in classes with Jaegar for three years. I know the guy, and he's a complete and utter dickhead!"

"Maybe Mikasa just likes guys like that," Connie shrugs, taking Sasha's side as always, and Jean's scowl somehow gets deeper, "Or maybe she just knows him way better than you do and likes what she sees. Don't you just hate Eren cuz she picked him over you?"

"Okay," Marco quickly interrupts, setting a hand on Jean's shoulder and pushing the fuming boy back down into his seat before he can throw a punch at Connie and/or Sasha. "Look you guys, when it comes down to it, who Mikasa dates is _her_ business, and if we're not happy for her, then we can't really call ourselves her friends, can we? Besides, we're juniors now and most of us'll be going off to different colleges soon - something this petty shouldn't be causing rifts between us."

"Real easy for you to say Marco," Jean grumbles, stabbing his fork into the carrots floating around in his stew with extreme prejudice, "You've never crushed on someone who doesn't want you."

'You'd be surprised,' Marco wants to say, but instead he remains quiet and just pats Jean on the shoulder again.

 

~.~

"Jean, stop it!" Marco shouts, trying to tug the glass out of Jean's hard grip but Jean jerks his arm free and flings the glass across the room, not so much as flinching when it shatters against the kitchen wall. Jean glares at the scattered glass sharps and whirls around with an unsatisfied growl, reaching into the rusted cabinets to grab another but Marco steps in his way and grips his wrists again, brown eyes flashing brightly as he pushes him away from the counter. "Jean, stop!"

"Let go!" Jean snarls, struggling as Marco tries to pin him down. His eyes are burning again, and he can feel tears already streaking his face but Jean doesn't care. He wants to break something. He wants to rip something apart. He wants to shatter everything in this damn house that reminded Jean of _him_. "Goddamn it Marco, let me go!"

"Calm down-!" Marco gasps as Jean's struggling causes him to lose his footing, and the two tumble back onto the linoleum floor with a thud. Marco quickly sits up and leans over Jean, reclaiming his grip on Jean's wrists and trying to hold him still. "Jean, please, calm down..."

Jean finally stops struggling at his words, his breathing coming out hard and his chest heaving as he stares up at Marco's face. Marco's eyes are damp and his hair sticks to his forehead from the sweat he'd worked up from trying to stop Jean's rampage for the past half hour.

The floor beneath Jean is cold and he can feel it even through his hoodie. The whole damn house is cold, with a thick, suffocating silence that Jean had never had to feel when he was at Marco's house.

Marco's home is warm and loud and welcoming, full of wonderful people with friendly smiles and kind words. They'd never once mistreated Jean, or ever made him feel unwelcome. Mrs.  
Bott always hugged both boys when they'd come home from school, and Mr. Bott would tell them corny jokes that made them roll their eyes and laugh. His little siblings adored him and constantly dragged Jean from Marco's room, begging him to play a game or two. Ymir had actually stopped punching his shoulder every time she saw him and instead greeting him with a softer pat on the shoulder. Even the Bott's fat, finicky tabby liked him, and Fuzzles didn't like _anyone_.

Marco's family loved him, and Jean felt more affection towards the Botts than he did towards his family. But if Marco's family could love him like that... then why the hell couldn't his own parents do that same?

"Why did he go!?" Jean snaps up at Marco, but Marco doesn't say anything. He doesn't have an answer for him, and Jean squeezes his eyes shut when he feels more hot tears starting to trickle out. He hated him. He hated him so much. What kind of coward left his own family behind? What had Jean done to make his own father hate him so much that he'd actually leave him?!

Jean didn't know what to do or what to think. His father was crude and loud, and he sure as hell wasn't Dad of the Year material, but he was still his _father_ for crying out loud! His mother wasn't any better. Instead of comforting her son she'd locked herself in her room with a few cans of the beer her husband had left behind.

For as long as he could remember, they'd never looked at Jean with affection, or any expression beyond dissatisfaction, but that hadn't stopped Jean from trying his hardest to just get one damn compliment from either them. Jean just wanted to know for once in his life what it felt like to have a parent that was truly proud of him...

He feels Marco pull them both up into a sitting position, and suddenly the freckled boy's arms are wrapped around Jean, holding him close as the harsh sobs start ripping through him.

"I hate that bastard!" Jean growls weakly into Marco's shoulder, gripping the damp shirt as he cries and Marco just holds him tighter, rocking him lightly and rubbing his back to calm him down. "I fucking hate them _both_!"

"I'm sorry, Jean..." Marco whispers again as Jean's shaking slowly starts to subside, and his own eyes swim with tears at the sight of his best friend looking so broken, "I'm so sorry..."

 

~.~

"I think this is the most uncomfortable thing I've ever been dragged to," Jean huffs as he tugs at the tight collar of his secondhand tuxedo, which feels way too hot in this stuffy room.

Jean didn't care that it was Senior Prom and he didn't care that everyone was showing up tonight. All Jean cared about was the fact that Marco had roped him into this ridiculous event when he could be at home right now, wearing boxer shorts, eating junk food, and watching that shitty John Wayne movie marathon right now.

"We've been through worse," Marco reminds him with a grin, "Remember that time Ms. Zoe's goldfish Albert died and she made Principal Pixis hold a school-wide funeral for it?"

"Hey, that was a small price to pay for no homework," Jean shrugs, but he's smiling now as he sips from his small cup of punch, which had shockingly not been spiked yet but the night was still young, and Connie or Reiner or Ms. Zoe will get to it eventually.

Their friends are all there, but they're scattered all over the auditorium; Jean can see Sasha and Connie about halfway across the room doing a very butchered attempt at krumping, but they look like they're having way too much fun with each other to give a damn about the strange looks they're getting.

Eren, Mikasa and Armin are standing nearby, all three of them hanging on to one another and laughing over something Jean can't hear. There were rumors going around that earlier that week Mikasa and Eren had gone back to just being friends, but that was either a lie or they were too damn close for their relationship to have suffered from it. Knowing them, Jean grudgingly admitted to himself that it was probably the latter. Oh well. Mikasa was a long forgotten goal, and he had to admit that he enjoyed being her friend more now that he wasn't constantly pining over her.

Reiner and Bertolt are secluded in a far corner, wearing matching tuxedos and Jean thinks that they're finally holding hands but he can't really tell from this distance. When Marco notices who Jean's staring at, he just smiles and says something about Reiner finally 'figuring himself out'. Annie is standing close to them, seeming to be half-heartedly listening to Mina's conversation with Franz and Hannah, who are sickeningly adorable together as always.

Jean didn't understand why Annie was even here, but judging by the way Mina grabs her arm every time she tried walking off, she was definitely at this prom against her will just like him. Still, Jean had to admit that she did look stunning in that green dress, and whenever Mina spoke to her Annie's smiles were small but genuine.

The only one of their gang not present was Christa, but Marco had mentioned something about her going to Ymir's school to attend the prom there in spite of the Lenz's vehement protests against her dating a "homeless ruffian girl". When she heard what Christa's parents had called her Ymir just cackled and demanded that they put that on her tombstone someday.

Jean actually thought that those two being an item was kind of cute, but he'd probably be more supportive if the discovery of their relationship hadn't been because Jean and Marco walked in on them making out in the Bott's living room. That was a fun weekend full of blushes and sneers from both sides...

"Don't look so grumpy, Jean," Marco says, breaking Jean from his thoughts with a gentle but firm elbow to the side. "It's Senior Prom, and the year's almost over! You can at least act like you're going to miss everyone when this is over!"

"I am!" Jean replies with sincerity that surprises himself, and he tugs at his tuxedo collar again, "I guess it's just easier to pretend that we're not spending our last months together." Marco blinks, staying silent for a moment but then he's giving Jean an understanding smile, slinging a companionable arm around the younger boy's shoulders. Had it been anyone but Marco, Jean would've shrugged the arm off immediately.

"Slow song," Marco notes as the music suddenly changes and the dancers switch to more calm movements. Well, most of them do. Connie and Sasha keep 'krumping', and Jean thinks he can see Ms. Hanji trying to get their English teacher Ms. Ral to do what looks like the Carlton with her. "You wanna dance, Jean?"

Jean feels a flash of surprise as he looks over at Marco, and the freckled boy suddenly is biting his bottom lip, as if he hadn't meant for his question to slip out. But Jean just smiles and shrugs, setting his cup down onto the table behind him.

"Screw it, it's Senior Prom - one dance with my best friend won't kill me." he sees, and Marco is beaming more brightly than ever as the two weave their way onto the dance floor.

 

~.~

The moon's full tonight, and Jean only knows this because he and Marco are laying in the middle of Marco's floor and looking up through the large skylight of his room. Their graduation robes are folded up into pillows behind their heads, and their diplomas are already being hung up in the living room by Marco's dad. Jean still smiles when he thinks of the way Mrs. Bott had insisted on hanging Jean's up too.

"You're family now, Jean," she'd assured him with a motherly peck on the cheek and if Ymir hadn't come along at that moment and congratulated Jean with a hard slap on the ass, Jean probably would've cried right there in the middle of the room.

"It's kind of crazy, isn't it?" Marco asks quietly, his gaze still on the stars above them. Jean looks over at him, and briefly notes that Marco's freckles almost perfectly match a constellation that he'd been staring at moments ago. "Feels like we just met each other on that old wet bus yesterday, and now we'll be heading out to college in a few shorts months..."

"Tell me about it," Jean sighs softly in agreement, fiddling with the class ring on his hand. He still couldn't believe it; he'd survived high school, heartbreaks, Ymir, his father abandoning him, and now here he was, a fresh high-school graduate who'd actually managed to get into the college of his choosing.

The Three Saints University was about a day's drive from Wallgate City, and Jean had recently found out that most of his friends were actually heading there too, including Marco. Skype could've kept him in contact with all of them, but somehow knowing that Marco would still be by his side through the next big phase of his life had taking so much of his anxiety away.

"Hey, Jean," Marco pipes up again after a long, comfortable stretch of silence, but his words are nearly interrupted by a loud yawn, which then makes Jean yawn as well. "Thanks again for letting me sit with you that day..."

Jean smiles, stretching his arms above his head with another loud yawn before he rolls over onto his side, flashing Marco a tired grin.

"You're welcome, Marco," he replies sleepily. Marco smiles again, opening his mouth to say something but before he can get the words out the excitement of their graduation day catches up to Jean and he drifts off into sleep.

Marco stares at his best friend for a moment longer before he smiles and sits up to move over to his bed, and as he stands he brushes his fingers briefly through Jean's sandstone-colored hair. Jean just smiles at the contact and snuggles down as Marco covers him with a spare sheet, and both of them fall asleep with smiles on their faces.

 

~.~

"Jeez, this place actually looks more pretentious in person than it did in the damn brochure," Jean snorts as he tugs a stack of cardboard boxes out of the back seat of Marco's station wagon, but Jean's sour mood from having to wake up so early does nothing to dispel the huge grin on Marco's face as the two of them look around at the huge campus. No surprise there - Marco's smile is still as chronic as Jean's cynical attitude. "Why do they have statues of random chicks in the quad?"

"Jean, they're not random chicks!" Marco gasps, sounding as close to offended as Jean had ever heard him. "They're Sina, Maria, and Rose, the three sister saints that founded this college!"

"So yeah, random chicks," Jean retorts with the same disinterest, shoving the rear door on his side shut just as an obnoxiously bright orange van pulls into the parking lot, nearly hitting Jean and his boxes as it comes to a stop in the spot beside them.

"What the-?! Damn it Connie!" Jean snaps, staggering back against Marco's car to keep his boxes from toppling over onto him. Connie grin's apologetically from the driver's seat while Sasha hops out of the passenger's side, sliding the side door open and rummaging through their mismatched collection of boxes and duffel bags for her closest supply of snacks. Jean tries not to roll his eyes; they'd all stopped for lunch less than an hour ago but apparently three hamburgers had done nothing to satisfy Sasha's hunger.

"Can you guys believe we're finally starting college?!" she exclaims over her shoulder, suddenly looking more interested in the box of Twinkies now in Connie's hand rather than the loads of luggage they still have to tote to their houses. They'd all really lucked out - this was one of the few colleges in the area that allowed first-year students to live off-campus, and Marco and Connie had managed to hunt down a small duplex practically across the street from the university. Marco and Jean would take one side, while Sasha and Connie shared the other.

"I still can't believe you two actually got accepted into college in the first place," Jean retorts, but a quick elbow to the side from Marco reminds Jean that he'd promised to play nice with the other students today.

"C'mon, let's get to orientation over with already so we can actually have free time later to move ourselves in," Connie suggests, and Jean just shrugs as Marco takes the boxes from him to be put back into the car. Without waiting for an answer, Connie, Sasha and the box of Twinkies are on the move towards a group of freshman gathering across the yard, and Marco looks over at Jean with a wide smile.

"You ready, Jean?" he asks, and his damn, sweet infectious smile soon has Jean grinning as well.

"Yeah, ready Marco," he replies, clapping a hand on Marco's shoulder as they head towards their orientation. Once again, and without feeling like someone jinxed it, Jean thought that this was going to be a pretty good year.

 

~~.~~


	2. What's In The Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off wanted to say thanks for all the comments and kudos this story has gotten so far - definitely inspires me to keep going! Hope you enjoy this next chapter~

  
~~.~~

Best friends or not, Jean swears that sometimes he could just _murder_ Marco Bott.

He can live with Marco's late night, half-asleep chatting while they're watching a movie. That’s cool. He can live with Marco's obsessive need to have every jar's label in their fridge and cabinets visible at all times. That’s fine. He can even live through the 10-minute lectures that Marco always gives him when he finds out Jean hasn't done any of his laundry in a week (and his 20-minutes worth of complaining afterwards while Marco himself does said laundry).

But he draws the line at Marco's latest detestable habit; moving his damn alarm clock across the room and therefore out of his reach unless he gets up.

He slaps a hand down onto his nightstand as the obnoxious beeping rips him out of a very nice dream involving Mikasa, coconut oil, and lots of seashell bras, but when he fails to locate his alarm clock Jean lifts his head with a groggy grunt, only to realize that Marco had come in during the night and moved it. It was a habit he'd picked up in their senior year (Jean was pretty sure that Armin had given him the idea) and it was the only foolproof way to assure that Jean would actually get out of bed when it went off.

But to hell with that; he'd stayed up until three-thirty last night organizing their stupid pantry - _Jean, labels out!_ \- so he was going back to sleep right now. Marco's freckled wrath be damned.

Growling at the irritating alarm, Jean leans over the edge of his bed and fumbles around in the dark room, grabbing the closest thing he can reach (a sneaker) and flinging it towards the red numbers glowing from the clock that was now sitting on his desk. The sneaker misses the clock completely because that's just his luck, and Jean cringes when it knocks over his new desk lamp instead. The bulb shatters as the lamp clatters noisily to the floor, the alarm clock is still squawking like a damn demon, and Jean hears Marco's rapidly approaching footsteps seconds before his door flies open.

The sunlight shining through the living room windows fills the dark room and Jean flops back into his bed with a hiss, covering his face with a pillow. Jean already hated that window - the light went right into his room unless his door was shut, and before this week was over he was either going to put up some blinds or nail a sheet of plywood over it. He was leaning towards the plywood option, but Marco would probably lecture him about the benefits of natural light.

Stupid best friend and his stupid freckled logic.

"Jean, are you okay?! What's-!" Marco starts to shout, but he trails off when he spots the lamp on the floor, surrounded by fragments of a broken bulb and a sneaker that's seen better days. Sighing, Marco crosses the room and finally shuts the alarm off, easily avoiding the scattered glass pieces littering the floor. Jean has burrowed himself back under the blankets despite knowing that Marco will target him next, but he still grumbles petulantly when Marco rips the blankets off.

"Why's the sun so damn bright?" Jean asks, voice still slurred with sleep and muffled by his pillow.

"Alarms exist for a reason, Jean," Marco says instead with an amused smile, folding Jean's blanket up in his arms. "You have your classes soon, and you still need to eat and take a shower."

"I don't need a shower," Jean protests as he sits up, blinking blearily from the bright light that his eyes still haven't adjusted to. "And my classes don't start for another three hours... I organized the stupid pantry for you, so let me sleep!"

"We still have a whole house to unpack and you're taking a shower whether you think you need it or not," Marco replies, still smiling as he tosses the blanket onto the foot of Jean's bed. "Now get up and get clean, Kirstein, and we can go get some breakfast."

"You're literally the worst roommate in the world," Jean grumbles but he pushes himself out of his bed anyway, rummaging the floor again for the jeans he'd discarded last night. Marco just clucks his tongue at the piles of laundry scattering the floor and walks out to let Jean get dressed. Jean always hated Marco's ability to make him feel guilty over the most trivial things, but at the same time at least it gave Jean some motivation to keep his room clean. Well, clean-ish.

Marco is on his phone by the time Jean has showered, gotten dressed and cleaned up the remains of the busted lamp, and for a moment he just stands in the doorway of the kitchen, watching the freckled boy putting things away while propping the phone up against his ear with his shoulder.

"The ride was fine, mom... Yeah, we both wore our seatbelts the entire time. Yes, we both had plenty to eat on the way too. What? Yeah mom, Jean's fine too, in fact he's being deliberately unhelpful right now and watching me struggle, same as always," Marco says into the receiver and Jean lets out a loud snort in reply. "Uh-huh... Yeah.... Okay, tell Marcus I said ‘Hi’ back. Alright, I've gotta- What? Yeah, I'll tell him - Jean, my mom says hello - okay, I told him. Yeah mom, I'm sure he heard me. Okay mom, I will... All right, love you too.. Okay, I’m hanging up now, bye mom, stop talking..." Jean snickers to himself as Marco finally ends the call with an exhausted sign, but there's no missing the warm affection still glowing in his eyes.

"You’d almost think that we've been gone for months," Marco mutters fondly as he starts rummaging through a nearby box. Jean nods in agreement and opens his mouth to remind Marco of his promises of breakfast, but he's interrupted by several loud and rapid knocks on the front door that can only belong to one obnoxiously short person with a shaved head and an irritating habit of talking too loudly during the early hours of the morning.

Jean yells out "Go away!" just as Marco opens the door to let Connie in, and they're both noticeably surprised when they see that Sasha doesn't come barreling in right after him.

"Sasha's got morning classes," Connie explains when he sees their puzzled looks, "Mine don't start for a while and we don't have any food left over there so now I'm bored and hungry."

"Well, we were just heading out for a bite to eat," Marco replies, lifting his jacket off of a nearby chair and heading towards the door before Jean can remind Connie that he's a grown man now and therefore _should_ be capable of feeding himself, even in spite of the chronic dependency that he and Sasha seemed to have on one another, "You can come along if you’d like, Connie - we need to start exploring this new neighborhood anyway. You coming, Jean?"

"Yeah, yeah," Jean huffs, grabbing his own jacket and slipping it on before following his two companions out the door. The sun's still out, though a few clouds are starting to roll in, and there's just enough of a chill in the air to make them all glad that they’d grabbed jackets. A few other groups of the neighboring students are mingling around as they head down the sidewalk, but most are either in their morning classes already or still sleeping in, which Jean wishes he was still doing.

"So I ran into Armin at the campus's little snack shop last night," Connie remarks as they start to leave the residential lots behind them and get closer to the downtown shops, "He's here along with Mikasa and Eren, but those two were at some night classes or something. It makes me wonder how much of the old gang's here."

"I know Christa's here," Marco replies as they pause in front of a restaurant and peer inside, but they all simultaneously decide that's it's already too crowded in there and move along. "Ymir might move out here too, but it’s only to be near Christa. According to her, college life isn't really her thing."

"Great, that’s something to look forward to," Jean mutters under his breath, wondering how many nights he has left until the sound of Ymir breaking into their house to raid their fridge is what wakes him up. Oh well.. At least it was a better option than his possessed alarm clock, though just barely. Not that he didn't like Ymir, but in the years they'd known each other she had more or less become the semi-bullying sister Jean never wanted.

"Hey, she's gotten a lot better since high school," Marco speaks up in defense for his cousin, "In fact, ever since she and Christa started-"

Marco’s words are suddenly caught off with a strangled yelp as he's suddenly pulled backwards and off the ground. Before Connie or Jean can even turn to see what’s going on they’re both being lifted into the air as well by a set of strong arms, and all three are now caught in one of the most crushing bear hugs they'd ever felt.

"Reiner!" Jean hears Marco laugh breathlessly beside him, but all Jean can see is the black fabric stretched over the broad chest he's being smothered against. He feels Reiner's booming laugh rumble in his chest and Connie's started squirming beside him to try and get some air, and _good god_ Reiner's about to break his damn back!

As suddenly as the three were picked up they're suddenly being dropped down again. Marco lands on his feet like the damn nimble punk he is, Connie somehow manages to stagger enough to stay upright (which isn't all that surprise since Connie and Sasha used to ride towards each other on skateboards and ram their [sometimes] helmeted heads together for fun), but Jean drops back onto the sidewalk like a bag of wet sand.

"Sorry Kirstein," Reiner grins, offering him a hand but Marco is already at Jean's side, pulling him to his feet and brushing the dust and gravel from his shirt. "Didn't expect to see you guys here!"

"Likewise, Reiner," Jean mutters as he rubs his lower back with a slight wince. If that was just how Reiner _hugged_ then Jean suddenly felt a severe pang of sympathy for any of the guys that had been tackled while playing football with the big blond. Speaking of which... "Let me guess - football scholarship?"

"Damn right!" Reiner booms again, giving Jean a hard slap on the back that nearly sends him back down to the sidewalk, face-first this time. Marco quickly reaches out and catches the collar of Jean's jacket, pulling him back upright. Jean mutters a quick thanks and shoots him a quick smile, which Marco happily returns. They'd learned years ago that Reiner could be a very "hands-on" kind of friend, and these things were all too common. Still, that didn't mean even his light slaps and playful punches didn't sting like a bitch.

"So does that mean Annie and Bertolt are around here too? Never seen you guys go anywhere without each other," Connie pipes up. The grin falls but Reiner’s face but he quickly covers it up with an obviously forced smile. Connie doesn't seem to notice the blond's grin falter. Marco and Jean do, and it causes them to exchange quick looks again

"Uh, yeah, they're both here.. Annie's in one of her classes right now, Kinesiology or some weird ass course like that. Part of her curriculum to becoming a physical trainer, I think." Reiner gives them the best casual shrug he can muster, though this time even Connie seems to notice that his wanna-be shrug looks more like a wince. "Bertolt's, uh... he's around, I guess."

"Is everything okay between you two?" Marco asks with worry, but Reiner just shrugs, not meeting any of their gazes.

“Whoa, trouble in paradise? With _you two_?” Jean scoffs with disbelief. He hadn't seen Reiner and Bertolt apart from each other since their freshmen year of high school, let along be openly upset with each other. Judging by the surprise on Marco and Connie's faces, this is a new experience to them as well.

"How the hell did you have an actual argument with _Bertolt_? No offense Reiner, but the guy's a six-foot pushover!" Connie inquires before Reiner can respond to Jean's remark, but Marco steps in at the look of discomfort that flashes over Reiner's face.

"If Reiner wants to tell us about it then he will," Marco says in that scolding tone of his that makes Jean and Connie instantly feel ten years younger. As they shrink back, Marco turns back towards Reiner and offers him a smile before resting a hand on his shoulder. "We were on our way to find a late breakfast.. Do you want to tag along?" Reiner shakes his head but the smile he gives the freckled boy is a little more genuine.

"Nah, I need to get going - got my own classes starting soon and I've still got part-time job apps that need to be turned in," Reiner replies. Jean and Connie both shrug and give Reiner quick waves of farewell before heading down the sidewalk again, both still eager to get some breakfast, and Connie glances back when he suddenly realizes that Marco's not beside them.

The freckled boy is still standing in front of Reiner, both of them speaking too quietly for Connie to hear. Reiner is shaking his head, suddenly looking much more upset than he was moments ago, and Marco frowns up at him with a look of sympathy on his face. His hand in still resting on Reiner's shoulder and Connie blinks when Reiner suddenly sighs and sets his much larger hand on top of Marco's.

Wait... they weren't...? Were Marco and Reiner-? No, they couldn’t be, Reiner had Bertolt.. Or at least, Connie thought he did.

Connie glances back towards Jean to see his reaction to all this, but Jean's still walking down the sidewalk, oblivious to the absence of his companions, and Connie glances back at the other boys just in time to see Reiner lean down and peck Marco's cheek with surprising tenderness, making the freckled boy blush. Suddenly feeling like this was not something he was supposed to witness, Connie quickly turns on his heel and scurries after Jean, who finally realized that he was walking alone and had stopped while he waited for them to catch up.  
  
"Marco, we getting any breakfast today or what!" Jean calls back towards Marco, tapping one foot against the sidewalk impatiently. Marco just chuckles, jogging to catch up to them. Reiner is now nowhere to be seen, Connie notices. Marco's cheeks are still a little red, but if Jean notices then he doesn't point it out, probably because the cold has made all of their faces a little flushed. The two fall back into their typical morning chatter with each other while Connie lingers a few steps behind them, his mind whirling with new questions.

Except for Jean himself, Connie didn't think there was anyone from their old gang who didn't know that Marco Bott had had the biggest and most pathetically obvious crush on Jean Kirstein for years. Connie had spotted it on the first day of their freshman year, when he and Sasha met Marco for the first time. Jean had been tilting back in his chair, droning on about already dreading having Ms. Zoe as a teacher, but Marco had been leaning on one hand with the widest smile Connie had ever seen, his expression steadily softening as Jean spoke. Connie Springer knew that look all right - it was the same face Sasha made whenever the two of them went to a new restaurant and realized that it had a buffet.

But if Marco had fallen so hard for Jean, then why the hell was Reiner kissing him? Or the more confusing question, why had Marco been so casual about being kissed by the blond when Reiner had Bertolt?

About thirty minutes later the trio finally finds a restaurant that isn't completely packed, with luckily a few outdoor tables available, and all three of them plow their way through of breakfast of pancakes and sausage. Connie was still a near-bottomless pit but he still had nothing on Sasha, and it made Jean a little glad that she hadn't been there to tag along; watching Sasha eat was something he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to.

"So, you guy pick your majors yet?" Connie asks them around a mouthful of half-chewed pancakes. Jean wrinkles his nose at the sight but Marco doesn't seem fazed at all; the aftereffects of living with four messy younger siblings and Ymir, apparently. "I think I'm gonna go with Web Design. Sasha thinks that's stupid but she still wants to professional barrel racer like her dad was, so I'm not sure if I can really trust her judgment."

"I wouldn't trust her judgment if you paid me," Jean scoffs in reply, sipping from his coffee and wincing when the bitter liquid burns his tongue. Connie almost looks offended at that, as if only he was allowed to call out Sasha's questionable opinions. "And screw that barrel racing shit - first time she took us to one of those shows some stupid horse kicked me in the head!"

"Ha! I remember that! Eren called you horse-face for like two years!" Connie cackles, but Marco winces at the memory, remembering how terrified he'd been when he'd turned around and saw Jean slumping against the wall with blood oozing down the side of his face. Luckily it hadn't even been a serious injury - the edge of the horse's hoof had just grazed his temple deep enough to break the skin. It left Jean with a throbbing headache and a scar that had almost completely faded by now but Marco had panicked about the whole thing for days afterwards.

"Jaeger’s such an asshole," Jean mutters under his breath before tilting his chair back, "And no, Con, I haven’t picked mine yet. What about you, Marco? You pick your major yet?"

"Mm-hmm, architecture," Marco beams back at him, and Jean's a little surprised by that. He and Marco hadn't really discussed much about their futures yet, but architecture definitely wasn't something that Jean would've guessed that Marco was interested in. "One of my great-great-grandfathers was a famous architect in Italy and he actually helped design some castles that real kings and nobles have lived in. Could you imagine doing something like that Jean, especially for a king?"

"I guess that'd be cool," Jean shrugs, though not indifferently since Marco seems genuinely excited about the topic, "I just want a job that'll let me live an easy, comfortable life after we leave this place."

"I think I want more than to just be comfortable," Marco shrugs back at him, fiddling with the top of his coffee cup and smiling, "I want to accomplish something great, so that I'm remembered by people even after my time..." Jean just raises an eyebrow at that, smiling as he leans over and bumps his shoulder lightly against Marco's.

"You're already that kind of guy, Marco," Jean assures him, "I don't think anyone who meets you could ever forget you." Marco opens his mouth to reply but only a tiny squeak comes out and Jean laughs as Marco tries to hide his reddening face by drinking from his cup again.

Meanwhile, Connie's growing more confused about what - or rather who - Marco wants by the second.

~.~

In spite of all his reassurances and the confident "I can handle a few stupid boxes" he’d called out while Marco was heading out the door to go to his classes, Jean was coming to the rapid and embarrassing conclusion that no, he apparently could not handle a few stupid boxes.

It had been nearly an hour since his housemate left and Jean felt like he hadn't even put a dent in unpacking. Marco's old station wagon had a lot of space, therefore they had brought a lot of boxes with them, but Jean honestly couldn't remember either of them packing half of the crap he’d come across. After opening the third box of paper plates and packages of men's socks (and coming to the conclusion that these mystery boxes must've been care packages Mrs. Bott had smuggled in while their backs were turned) Jean was ready to give up and just get ready for his own upcoming classes until a rumpled box nearly hidden behind the others caught his eye.

It was a tall box, stained from years of use and torn along most of the edges, but the words 'Memories w/HF' sharpied on the side in Marco's handwriting looked pretty fresh. His curiosity spiking, Jean pulls a chair over and sits down before dragging the tall box toward him and opening it, and almost immediately he’s hit with a wave of nostalgia.

Folded up at the very top of the box was Jean's red hoodie from high school, the one he'd stopped wearing about halfway through their senior year, and as he unfolds the rumpled article of clothing he can't help but smile when he sees the splotch of ink still staining the sleeve; in spite of all their attempts and washes, they never did get that stubborn stain out, though they did manage to dull the hoodie's color down a few shades. It had hardly been a year since he'd worn it but now it felt like a lifetime ago.

Still smiling, Jean tosses the hoodie onto the table behind him before reaching back into the box, pulling out a stuffed manila envelope which Jean soon discovers is packed to the seams with multiple stacks of photos being held together by various rubber bands. Turning in his seat, he spills a few out onto the table, and from every angle he sees pictures of Marco and/or himself staring back at him.

A rush of memories blurs in his mind, but Jean can remember almost every instant when these pictures were taken. At the top of the pile are pictures from Jean and Marco’s freshmen year, when their class had taken a field trip to some history museum with Ms. Zoe. The museum itself had been boring as hell to everyone but Marco and Armin, the little nerds, but the bus rides had been pretty damn fun, between having spitball fights with Eren and watching Armin try to talk to Annie without stumbling over his words.

Jean chuckles again when he recalls that it had taken their whole gang until midway through their Junior year to wonder why and how their biology teacher had taken them to a history museum.

Jean pushes the pile of fieldtrip pictures away to inspect the second stack; these are from Jean's first real vacation; a trip to the beach with the Bott's during the summer before their sophomore year. There's a photo of him and Marco smiling from the back seat of the Bott's van, a few of them at various hotels they'd stayed in along the way, one of Jean dozing on a beach towel with Marco's siblings crowding around him with buckets full of sandy water (though luckily Marco had spotted them and intervened while their dad was snapping the picture), Marco's parents standing by a grill and waving at the camera, one of Marco and Jean both laughing after being buried neck-deep in the sand, Marco and Jean sleeping at a picnic table after a particularly long day of chasing the youngest of the Bott brood around, and finally the whole Bott family and Jean posing on a knoll while the sunset reflected beautifully on the ocean behind them,

With another fond sigh, Jean pushes the beach photos aside, lazily shuffling through the rest of the stacks and discovering that there were photos from every trip he'd taken with the Botts, several stacks of various time periods throughout their high school years, a thick stack of pictures from senior prom and graduation day (with way more photos of Jaeger’s stupid face mixed in than Jean would have preferred), and at the bottom of the stack were a few photos that Marco had taken during their trip from Wallgate City to Three Saints University. The very last one he sees is a random picture that Mrs. Bott had taken of him and Marco in their living room; both of them were grinning at the camera while trying to also stay focusing on the video game that they'd been playing.

Marco and his family really had given him some of the best days of his life so far. Jean winces every time he wonders about what he would have done during those long years if he'd never met Marco, though in all honesty, Jean doesn’t like dwelling on those kinds of thoughts. If he’d never had Marco in his life to keep him happy and strong, there was no telling what kind of person he would be today..

The buzzing of the alarm set on his phone suddenly breaks him from his thoughts and Jean curses when he realizes that he has about five minutes until his Astronomy class starts. He quickly gets to his feet and shoves the photos back into one big pile, which he can sort out later, and hopes that Marco won't lecture him about getting them all mixed up together.

Without thinking about it, Jean grabs the red hoodie off of the table and pulls it on over his T-shirt before picking up his binder and heading out the door, pausing long enough to lock it behind him. Though the odds aren't high, Jean hopes his classes will end before Marco got home - he really would've liked to have gotten more unpacking done before the box of photos distracted him.

It's not until Jean's walking into his crowded Astronomy class that he remembers the 'Memories w/HF' that had been written on the box, and half of his classmates look over when he suddenly lets out an indignant squawk of realization.

_That freckled bastard had called him 'Horse-face'!_

.~.

"So much for handling a few stupid boxes," Marco mutters under his breath when he sees the sloppy stack of photos piled onto the middle of their table, but he still smiles as he tosses his bag onto the floor. He supposed that in a way it was his own fault, since he knew that Jean couldn't clean or sort through anything without getting distracted every five minutes by the things he came across.

With a fond shake of his head, Marco stacks the photos back into fairly neat piles and stuffs them back into the manila envelope, making a mental note to buy some photo albums the next time he goes out. Jean and Ymir had always teased him about his love of photo albums, but the only thing Marco loved more than his memories were the physical reminders of those memories.

He smiles as he puts the pictures away, occasionally laughing at the ones of him and Jean making goofy faces at the camera, but he pauses when he discovers a small stack of notes on the table that had been hidden underneath the photos.

The stack is still wrapped with a rubber band, so he assumes that Jean hadn't looked through it, but Marco recognizes Jean's handwriting on the outside of a few of the folded squares of paper. Curious, he unwinds the band from the notes and riffles through a few of them, and almost immediately he wishes that he hadn't.

They were notes from Jean's high school girlfriends. Most of them are simple and short, with the typical cheesiness you'd expect from high school couples, but some of them are more intimate, and Marco catches Mina's name in a few of them. He feels his face and neck flush and Marco quickly tosses the stack of notes back into the bottom of the box, suddenly wanting to get them as far away from his pictures as possible.

His good mood now damped by those notes, Marco tosses the manila envelope back into the box and sets it beside the other boxes that needed to be taken to his room. Yeah, maybe he was being a little juvenile about it; Jean had dated those girls years ago and half of them he probably didn't even remember now, but that didn't change the fact that all those girls had gotten what Marco still wasn't brave enough to try and get; Jean's romantic affection.

Sighing, Marco pulls another box towards him but before he can open it up his phone suddenly buzzes with a text notification. Marco frowns, knowing that Jean doesn't usually text him during classes, but his confusion turns into curiosity when he sees that the text is from Reiner instead.

But he realizes what sort of message it is moments before he even opens it, and Marco sighs again as he reads over the old but still familiar request that Reiner is asking for. He quickly types out his usual reply before glancing around the untidy room once more.

Oh well.. The boxes weren't going anywhere.

Marco scribbles a quick note to Jean about going out to run errands or attend a class that had been postponed; he’s not sure what he puts down this time. He’s halfway to the door before he remembers that he’ll probably be back late, and without him Jean was likely to starve, so he tosses some pizza money onto the counter as well before he heads out the front door again. After he stops to lock it behind him, Marco pulls his cellphone from his pocket again and deletes the messages that Reiner had sent him.

Better safe than sorry, right?

~~.~~

 


	3. Naivety is a Bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jean is bored and Marco is pathetic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, this update came a lot later than expected, but thanks everyone for the kudos and wonderful comments you've all given me so far! ^^ This chapter sheds a little more light onto the situation between Marco and Reiner~
> 
> Edited 4/18/14

  
~~.~~

“Bad news, Marco - we have to transfer as far away as we can!” Jean shouts as he squeezes himself through the front door of the duplex, trying his hardest to not drop the stack of thick binders balanced precariously in his arms, “Sasha said that Ms. Zoe’s here now, and she fucking brought her dead ferns with her!”

Jean stumbles into the kitchen and kicks the front door shut behind him, dropping his binders unceremoniously onto the kitchen table with a huff before he finally takes note of the silence looming around the house. He frowns at the unexpected absence of a freckled face. Marco’s only classes for that day should’ve been done about an hour ago, and Jean’s halfway across the kitchen to check Marco’s bedroom when he spots the note on the counter.

_‘Hey Jean! I went out to help Reiner move some furniture in and take care of some errands around town. I might be back pretty late tonight, so don’t wait up. If I'm not back in time for dinner, I left money for pizza on the counter. – Marco, :)’_

Jean snorts at the familiar sight of the little smiley face at the end of the note before crumpling the slip of paper up and tossing it into the trash. He glances towards the counter, and sure enough, a neatly folded twenty-dollar-bill is perched on top of Jean's favorite coffee mug. 

Nearly five years of being friends and Marco “Mister Maternal” Bott still didn’t seem to grasp the fact that he didn’t actually have to report his actions to Jean every second of the day anymore. He was a grown-ass man now, and if he wanted to disappear for a few discreet hours then that was his business. Jean thought that Marco would've picked up on the habit of randomly disappearing, especially after spending the past few years with people like him and Ymir, but that was apparently just the kind of person that Marco was and always would be..

But now the biggest downside of Marco's absence is that the duplex is noticeably quieter without the sound of the usual commentary Marco made when he was shuffling through their boxes or complaining about how Jean never put the cap of their milk back on all the way. Worst of all, without Marco home, now Jean had no legitimate distractions from putting the rest of their crap away (his homework didn't count; he would've put that off whether Marco was there or not).

“You owe me one, Bott,” Jean mutters under his breath, grabbing the closest box and pulling it towards him. Jean really didn’t mind Marco leaving for a few hours, especially since he left pizza money, but he did wonder where that freckled punk had gotten the gall to leave this much manual labor to him.

.~.

Reiner's being quiet now, much more so than usually is.

Marco sighs under his breath, leaning against the doorframe of Reiner’s bedroom as he watches the muscular – and currently shirtless - blond man stalk around his bedroom. He hates it when Reiner’s being quiet. It’s unnerving.. Reiner’s supposed to be loud and bold, always filling a room with his booming laughter and loud exclamations. But he hasn’t spoken a single word to Marco for the better part of the hour and now the blond wasn’t even looking in his direction, which was something else that Marco didn’t like.

Reiner finally stops pacing and pauses at the foot of his double bed, picking up a stray black shirt from the floor and staring at it before dropping it back down onto the same spot. Marco’s seen that gesture plenty of times before; it means that Reiner is either trying to distract himself from his own thoughts, or he has something on his mind that he doesn’t know how to start sharing.

“Call him,” Marco pipes up after taking an educated guess about what exactly was troubling the blond. Reiner jumps as if he’d forgotten that Marco was still there, and the freckled man frowns when he gets nothing more than a blank stare as a reply. “Don’t give me that look.. I’m being serious right now, Reiner. Call him. You’re both adults and, more importantly, you’re best friends, so you need to try and work this out.”  
“There’s nothing to work out anymore, Marco,” Reiner grunts, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he lightly kicks at the discarded black shirt again. “Bertl said he just needs some space right now. He says he doesn’t think he’s fully ‘figured himself out’ or some other bullshit..”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve heard a line like that,” Marco remarks a little more harshly than he’d intended. Reiner winces at the accusing tone and drops his gaze back to the shirt on the floor, his hands curling into fists. Marco sighs again, his tone softening as he speaks, “Look Reiner, you spent most of your last years in high school unsure if you were straight or not, so is it so bizarre that Bertolt’s wondering now if he’s actually gay?”

“Silly me. I guess I thought the fact that we’ve been dating for almost a year would’ve tipped him off,” Reiner snaps, waving a hand at Marco when he sees the shorter man start to open his mouth again, “And yeah, I know Marco, I dated chicks for three years before I finally figured myself out.”

“Then you know how frustrating uncertainty can be,” Marco replies, crossing the room to close the distance between them, “You don’t have to call Bertolt right now, but you still need to, and soon. Like I said, he’s still your best friend, and he could probably use someone to talk to, and I’m sure he’d much rather it be you than Annie. Her ideas of comforting someone tend to involve face-planting them into a gym mat.”

Reiner sighs again but he meets Marco’s gaze this time, which is definitely a step up from five minutes ago, and after a long silence the blond finally gives Marco a small smile.

“You know, you can be annoyingly good at that counseling shit,” Reiner mutters, and Marco rolls his eyes with a small smile of his own. No matter how tender a moment between them would get, he could always count on the arrival of Reiner’s infamous crude remarks, though at least he could take that as a sign that things were getting back to normal.

Well, at least as ‘normal’ as the current arrangements between the two of them _could_ get..

Marco also knows that his ability to handle Reiner’s personality is really thanks to his years spent with Jean. So many people mistook Jean’s prickly humor for rudeness, but to everyone who really knew him, hearing Jean _not_ being a sarcastic jackass to everyone around him would be the thing that would make them start worrying. It could be obnoxious, but it was what really made Jean who he was, and Marco wouldn’t ever do anything to change that.

“So what’re you going to do now?” Reiner asks him, breaking Marco from his thoughts, and the freckled man raises an eyebrow when he sees the blond boy trying and failing to pick the black shirt up off the floor with his toes. “Shouldn’t Jean be back from his classes by now?”

“I left him a note, so he won’t be expecting me back until later tonight,” Marco replies as he bends over to pick the shirt up. He chooses to ignore the indignant squawk of ‘I almost had that!’ from Reiner, and he smiles a little as Reiner sits on the edge of his bed with a pout that looks comically out of place on his otherwise stern face. “And for the tenth, and hopefully last, time Reiner, stop leaving my shirt’s laying everywhere... If someone comes by and sees them then they’ll probably ask questions, and right now we don’t exactly have any good answers for those questions.”

“Who cares,” Reiner shrugs back at him before reaching out and gently grabbing Marco’s wrist to pull the shorter man down towards him. Marco sighs but moves forward anyway, settling himself down into Reiner’s lap with a sense of familiarity. “We don’t need a damn explanation for this so neither does anyone else..”

“Technically we  _do_  have an explanation, Reiner,” Marco reminds him quietly, leaning forward and resting his head on top of Reiner’s as the blond wraps his thick arms around Marco’s waist, “It just not one that anyone else would really understand..”

“Well, I don’t need any of them to understand and neither should you,” Reiner replies, and as he turns and effortlessly rolls both of them back onto the bed, Marco can’t help but notice that Reiner’s hushed tone suddenly sounds more upset than angry, assuring Marco that Reiner was a lot less indifferent about this than he pretended. It was a little bizarre really, knowing that a seemingly unbreakable man like Reiner still had an armor that could be pierced so easily.

Marco sighs as Reiner pushes him back onto the bed and tugs his boxers off, and as he watches the cloth sail through the air to join the small pile of Marco’s other discarded shirts, the freckled man can’t help but wonder just how long the two of these could keep this up. But instead of worry about that right now, Marco lays back, closes his eyes and thinks of Jean.

He doesn’t feel any better afterwards. He never does. But by now at least he’s gotten really good at pretending.

  
~~.~~

The first few months of their lives at the Three Saints Academy come and go in a blur of countless coffee pots, essays based on bullshit, and exhausting all-nighters that left Jean even less of a morning person than he already was.

The weather steadily got wetter and colder, and as the minutes blurred into hours Jean slowly became aware that he’d been staring at the same page of his textbook for nearly twenty minutes without seeing anything but a page of fuzzy words and jumbled numbers. He tries to make sense of the shit in front of him for a full minute before finally looks up and shoves the textbook away from him with a defeated huff, rubbing his eyes and glancing around the kitchen while he waits for the temporary blurriness of his vision to fade away.

Marco is hunched over a sketchpad at the other end of the table, seeming relatively calm as he traces over a floor-plan assignment for one of his architecture classes or whatever the hell he was doing, but Jean can see the slight crease in his brow and the way the very edge of his tongue is poking out from the corner of his mouth. Both of those are signs that Marco Bott was deep in concentration and should not be disturbed unless circumstance had become very dire (it makes Jean briefly think of the time when he’d accidentally caught Marco’s toaster on fire and the freckled boy hadn’t looked up from his college applications until Jean had just thrown the smoking appliance out the back door).

Jean signs under his breath, knowing that he’ll get no such distractions from his freckled roommate right now (that selfish, responsible nerd) and instead he opens up the shitty browser app on his phone. Even the internet was boring right now, but it was still a way better alternative than returning to his mind-numbing studies.

If procrastination were a college major, Jean Kirstein would’ve had a damn Bachelor’s Degree by now.

He skims through a few texts from random girls that he continues to purposely ignore or simply delete, clears a notification from his calendar app that reminds him that his chemistry report was due yesterday (Whoops), and then he sees another Facebook friend request from Eren, with Jean declines with a scowl. That was like the seventh one he’d gotten from him in the past month. Jean knew that that bastard Jaeger didn’t really want to be his friend – Eren just liked annoying the piss out of him by continuously sending him friend requests, that lame, juvenile, jackass of a-

“You’re supposed to be studying, Jean.” Marco pipes up, nearly making Jean jump out of his seat. Marco sets his pencil down with a tired sigh, rubbing his palms against his eyes before looking over at Jean, and in spite of the scowl he’s wearing, Jean snickers at how ruffled Marco looks right now. It was almost cute. “And please stop scowling at your phone - Eren’s really not as bad as you like to think he is.”

“Not having this conversation again, Bott. Eren was still an asshole yesterday and that sure as hasn’t changed by now,” Jean replies curtly. He sticks his tongue out at Marco for good measure, earning him a snort and a very well-executed eye roll in return. “Also, do my homework for me.”

“I thought you two got over your bickering in high school,” Marco remarks as he gets to his feet, cracking his back before going over to the fridge to retrieve a bottle of water. Jean winces at both the popping noise and the knowledge that Marco willingly drank flavored water. Both things were equally nasty in his mind.

“We did kinda sorta get over it, for like a month, but remember our last game night with them? He so cheated during that final round of Monopoly – that makes things personal again,” Jean grumbles, glancing back at his phone when he hears the alert noise of another friend request, and the sight of Eren’s stupid profile picture is grinning up at him yet again. “See Marco, he’s doing this just to annoy me and you know it!” Jean says accusingly, turning the phone around so Marco could see the screen. Rather than receiving the sympathy that he so clearly deserved, Jean only gets an unimpressed stare from his (supposed) best friend.

Marco tries not to smile when Jean’s expression falls into what could only be described as a very petulant pout, but the muffled buzzing of his own phone interrupts him before he can attempt any further damage control to the current situation, or at the very least try to placate Jean’s ego.

“Who the hell’s texting you at this hour? Is it your hot new girlfriend? By the way, did you finally get a hot new girlfriend?” Jean asks without looking up from his own phone, conversation forgotten and brow furrowing as he attempts to get the very uncooperative block function to work. Eren had probably forced Armin to disable it again, that damn angry brown-haired motherf-

“Jean, do your homework.” Marco says instead, hoping that Jean can’t see the flush that’s now on his face as he fishes his cellphone from his coat pocket. He flips it open, half-expecting to see Reiner’s name on the screen, but Marco blinks in surprise when he instead sees that Bertolt’s name is attached to the latest text message.

Marco swallows, almost afraid to read the message, but as his eyes skimmed over the (thankfully) un-hostile words he lets out a particularly deep breath of relief. So, Bertolt _didn’t_ seem to know about the arrangement between himself and Reiner; that was definitely something that Marco really hoped would stay between them. He wasn’t overly concerned about Bertolt holding a grudge, but everyone knew the sweaty man couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. He folded like a lawn chair, especially to people that scared him like Annie and Ymir, and so Bertolt finding out meant that _everyone_ in their circle would eventually find out, including Jean.

Marco’s stomach drops at the mere thought.

“Hey, you’re purposely avoiding my innocent question Marco, and studies show that a lack of closure can cause rifts in friendships, even ones as epic as ours,. Also, do my homework,” Jean half-shouts at him, finally looking up from his phone when he realizes that Marco is putting his jacket on. “Um... where the hell’re you going?”

“That text was from Bertolt,” Marco answers as he zips his jacket up, “He wants some advice about some.. stuff he’s going through. It’s the kind of stuff that I went through before, so I know that a face-to-face conversation will probably do him a lot better than texting or a Skype chat.”

“Skype chats are awesome – you can turn the other person off whenever you’re sick of hearing their voice and they can’t physically raid your fridge.” Jean says with a nod towards the wall that separated their side of the duplex from Connie and Sasha’s side, as if that justified his argument completely. Which, technically, it did.

“Yes, yes, I know how you always jump at the opportunity to turn someone off,” Marco remarks, grinning when Jean just sticks his tongue out at him again, “I’ll be back as soon as I can, and try to actually get some studying done while I’m gone, okay Jean?”

“Whatever, mom,” Jean grumbles back at him, trying and failing to not smile when Marco brushes a hand through his spikey hair as he walks by. It was a simple gesture that had started sometime in high school. Marco never did it to him if someone else was present, but Jean wouldn’t pretend that he hadn’t grown to like it over the years. It was a nice little reminder that there was still someone who would actually miss him after closing the door behind them. Jean didn’t have a lot of those anymore.

Jean sighs again as the front door shuts behind Marco, yet again plunging the duplex into silence. He doesn’t want to study, he never found the box with his collection of video games, he wasn’t tired enough to sleep, and now he had no Marco to keep him company.

Hell, he couldn’t even call Connie and Sasha to come over and kill his boredom; judging by the Facebook status Connie had posted earlier, Sasha had found a new buffet restaurant downtown and was currently taking their All-You-Can-Eat deal as a personal challenge. Jean didn’t know who he’d felt worse for when he read that status; the restaurant or his friend’s skimpy food budget.

“Guess my final option’s as good as any..” Jean mutters to himself, closing his internet app and scrolling through his annoyingly long list on contacts, pressing the call button once he finds the name he was looking for. “Yo, Hitch,” Jean says, grinning to himself as soon as she answers, “It’s Jean. ..Jean Kirstein... How many fuckin’ Jeans do you know?! …Smart ass. Anyways, you doing anything important tonight?”

.~.

Marco really hated to admit it, especially since he considered the tall man to be a good friend, but seeing Bertolt’s name on his phone had initially sent a jolt of apprehension through him.

No, Bertolt wasn’t dating Reiner anymore, or dating anyone at all for that matter, but Marco honestly wasn’t sure how Bertolt would really react to learning that Marco and Reiner had that… arrangement that had been unofficially going over for several months now. Not surprising, since honestly Marco still isn’t sure what his own opinion of it was.. It was something they both needed but that didn’t mean it was healthy, or stable, and he could only imagine what most of his friends would think of it.

But Bertolt’s request for advice had been just that, with no obvious suspicions or ulterior motives revealed upon Marco’s arrival to his dorm, and while Marco knew that he and Bertolt’s shared situation had quite a few key differences, he was always more than happy to share his own stories and experiences, especially when they would help someone who was suffering through as much self-doubt as Bertolt was.

Now if only he could get Reiner to understand that..

Marco sighs in exasperation at the mere thought of trying to get something like that through Reiner’s thick skull, and he slips a hand into his coat pockets as his duplex finally comes into view. As fond as he was of Reiner, and he really was, sometimes the blond man’s bullheadedness gave Marco headaches that lasted all day.

He did like to think that he had a lot of experience by now with dealing with stubborn men, thanks to the aforementioned years with Jean, but even then things were different. Jean was an almost pleasant kind of stubborn, excluding his everlasting and self-fueled ‘rivalry’ with Eren, and though Marco wouldn’t pretend that Jean had never exasperated him or given him at least one headache over the course of their friendship, the respect and affection they’d come to hold for each other always managed to get them through whatever minor or major quarrels they found themselves going through.

Marco knows that Reiner’s current situation isn’t easy for him, and being upset with Bertolt’s decisions was at least a _little_ justified in Marco’s mind, but if he and Jean ever found themselves in such a situation, he knew Jean wouldn’t just sit and brood in his bedroom, or start avoiding Marco like the plague..

Marco sighs and rubs his temples again; he loved his friends dearly but all the drama that he was getting himself involved in was making his head pound. Maybe tomorrow he’d call Armin and get his opinions about what was going on; if there was anyone who gave advice that could be counted on to work – or at the very least not backfire badly in someone’s face – it was definitely Armin.

 _It’s just something they’ll have to work it out themselves for now_ , Marco tells himself as he steps onto their short stoop to unlock the door. Excluding the dull bulb above his head, none of the lights are on, which means that Jean is probably in bed already, and Marco’s almost willing to bet money he can’t spare that Jean’s homework is in exactly the same state as it was when he’d left an hour or so ago.

Sure enough, Jean’s textbook and half-finished essay is still sitting on the table right where he’d last seen them, but as Marco shrugs his jacket off he sees that his sketchbook and charcoal pencils have all been tucked away neatly into his bag.

Marco can’t help but smile at the little gesture, but he knows to leave Jean’s own supplies out and untouched. Apparently having everything spread out was part of Jean’s ‘system of organization’ and even doing something as simple as tidying up his bedroom could result in Jean throwing a tantrum. Marco preferred to avoid triggering those when he could; Jean’s last tantrum had resulted in a 2-hour screaming match between him and Ymir that poor Marco was very nearly dragged into. It wasn’t until Marco had the sense of mind to call Ymir’s girlfriend in, and even then it took another hour to calm Jean down. By the time it was all over and done, neither Jean nor Ymir could remember what they’d been arguing about. They were seriously going to give Marco gray hairs.

Turning away from Jean’s sloppy mess of papers and pencils, Marco stifles a yawn as he heads down the short hallway and towards his bedroom, but he pauses mid-step when he suddenly hears a low thump come from inside Jean’s room. Marco frowns, glancing over his shoulder to look at the clock on the kitchen stove; 2:15 a.m. Jean wasn’t known for ever having a sleep schedule that was logical in any explainable way, but whenever he was stuck home alone he always tended to crash around midnight.

Curious, Marco makes his way over towards Jean’s room, raising a hand to knock on the door but then freezing when he started to hear the quiet creaking of bedsprings. It’s a rhythmic noise, mixed in with a few muffled groans that are vaguely familiar but distinctly feminine, and Marco feels his face starting to burn when he realizes that he’s listening to.

_Oh._

There’s another sudden thump against Jean’s wall, loud enough to make Marco jump this time, and the hot flush on his face spreads to the back of his neck when he hears Jean let out a loud but muffled moan.

So that’s what Jean’s moaning sounds like.. At least now he wouldn’t have to imagine-

“A-Ahh, Jean…!”

Marco’s stomach churns so much it almost hurts.

“Fuck, Hitch-!”

Hitch..

Jean sounds breathless, his voice coming out between harsh pants. It’s almost a beautiful sound, but only in a bitter way, because it’s the kind of noise that Jean would never make with him.

Marco gulps again and quickly turns away from the door, his face burning as he tries to ignore the faint voices behind him but now that he was aware of what exactly was going on in Jean’s room, even the littlest of noises all seems that much louder.

 _And there it is_ , Marco thinks with a small pang of bitterness, heading towards his room as quickly and as silently as he could. It was the ever-present reminder of just how different he and his best friend really were when it came to what – and who- they wanted, and as he shuts his door behind him, doing everything he can to not slam the damn thing, Marco can’t help but cringe at just how naïve and hopeless he could really be.

Marco presses himself back against his door with a heavy sigh, his pulse pounding against his chest and temples as he tries to calm himself down. He can’t hear the noises anymore, thank god, but that doesn’t stop them from looping in his head. Hitch’s cries, Jean’s breathless moaning, the nauseatingly loud bouncing of bed springs..

Hitch… Why Hitch, why did it _always_ have to be Hitch? She’d seemed like a nice enough girl when they first met her in their physics class but now, after knowing her for a few months, Marco knew now that Jean could definitely do better. Hitch wasn’t looking for any sort of long-term commitment where she would have to willingly support Jean with his endearing albeit multiple flaws, and that was something that a guy like Jean needed.

No, Marco knew now that this was all just a game to her; sex, in her mind, was nothing but a recreation, nothing but a distraction from the stress and demands of their college life. In a few years, none of this would matter at all to her.

 _Just like you and Reiner_ , a voice in the back of Marco’s mind suddenly reminds him, and the freckled boy slides down the wall, trying not to wince as the reality of his current situation starts to yet again sink in.

Jean was his best friend, the best and closest friend that Marco had ever had, but that didn’t change the fact that even someone like _Hitch_ had a higher chance of officially dating him than Marco did. Jean went through his fair share of one-night stands, with Hitch being the sole multiple exception, but all the past flings Marco knew about had still all been women, and as far as Marco knew, Jean had never felt the same way about any guy as Marco felt about Jean.

He didn’t like to think about it either, but Marco can actually still remember the sour face that Jean had made when their group had found out that Reiner and Bertolt had finally become a couple; It was that face that always made Marco hold back from telling Jean about his sexuality. He didn’t want to think that Jean was homophobic to any extent, but he certainly didn’t want to take any chances finding out either..

Another breathless gasp suddenly wafts through the house, and Marco scrambles to his feet when the muffled noise reaches his ears. He crosses the room, turning his radio on to the first station that comes in free of static, and he sets the volume just high enough to distract him from any more noises that might’ve followed.

Quietly, and a bit bitterly, Marco kicks his shoes off and slid his jeans down so he’s in nothing but boxer and a t-shirt before climbing into his bed and smothering himself under his comforter, trying to focus on the music playing on the radio instead of the faint rocking sounds he can hear again.

A small part of Marco is tempted to just go back to Reiner’s, and he realizes with another pang that that’s another reminded of just how pathetic he can be.

~~.~~


	4. One Step Forward..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I finally got some inspiration for this story back! It's been on hiatus for a while, mostly because of some personal dissatisfaction with it, but now the gears are turning again and this story's back. 
> 
> This chapter's a little short compared to the others and kind of filler-y, but the next chapter is a big one~ Also, all previous chapters have been edited and updated.

~~.~~

Well, Marco had certainly had more restful nights before.

It was bad enough that he’d gotten home later than he’d expected to, but coming home only to discover that Hitch and Jean were locked away in a bedroom didn’t help at all. He didn’t know how long it had taken him to fall asleep after he curled up in his bed and stuffed his head under his pillow, trying to muffle the faint noises and ignore the throbbing in his chest, but it must not have been too long ago because he was still exhausted.

It was already a little after nine, but luckily Marco didn’t have any classes that day, and he is extremely grateful for that fact as he trudges towards the counter. He reaches out towards the coffee maker to start preparing a fresh batch, but he pauses when he realizes that the light is on and the pot is already half-full.

“It’s fresh,” a voice behind him suddenly says, and Marco jumps in surprise before he whirls around. Hitch is sitting at the table, a small cup of coffee still steaming in her hands, and the way she smiles while she looks at him right now is a little unnerving. She looks like she’s torn between making a snide remark or starting her typical early morning flirting, and Marco turns away from her to pour a cup of coffee for himself. He has no intentions of sticking around to wait while she comes to a decision.

“So you got in pretty late last night, Bott,” Hitch speaks up again, and Marco glances back at her briefly, looking away when he sees that she’s still watching him like a hawk. A mildly horny hawk. “Didn't even hear you come in.. We must’ve been in bed already. Late night study session?”

“Something like that,” Marco replies as he glances back towards her again. “Don’t you have classes to get to or something?” As much as Marco hates being rude, her choice of conversation is really starting to make his skin crawl. Hitch just smiles and raises the coffee cup to her mouth again, sipping loudly, and Marco scowls when he notices that she was using an old white mug when the Wallgate Zoo emblem printed onto it. It was the mug that he'd bought Jean during his first vacation with the Botts.

“Um, that’s Jean’s cup,” Marco mutters, cursing himself when his voice comes out softer than he’d intended it to. “He doesn’t like anyone else using it.”

“Well, I _was_ sucking him off a few hours ago,” Hitch says with a shrug, and Marco hopes she didn’t notice him wince. “So I’m sure he won’t mind if I use his precious cup.”

“I think you should go,” Marco whispers, shoveling more sugar than he usually likes into his cup. He tenses when he hears Hitch stand up and make her way towards him but he keeps his gaze fixed on the counter.

“I’m actually a little surprised that you didn’t hear us,” Hitch continues as if she hadn’t heard his requests for her to leave at all. “Jean can be so noisy when he _really_ gets into it.. Not a screamer, but still pretty vocal. But of course, you probably didn’t know that.”

 _You don’t know anything about him_ , Marco wants to say, and his hands faintly shake as he raises his own coffee cup to his mouth. The coffee tastes terrible but he drinks it anyway if only to keep himself from speaking. _I’ve known him for years. You’ve barely known him a few months._

“What about you, hmm?” Hitch hums quietly, her voice suddenly uncomfortably close to his ear. “Do you like your lovers to make a little noise, Bott?”

“More than a little, Hitch,” Marco says before he can stop himself, and he turns around to face the girl behind him. She’s standing much closer to him than he’d expected, and Marco feels his back knock against the counter when he leans away from her. She smirking at him, her eyes glowing at the prospect of the new challenge standing in front of her. Marco meets her gaze as evenly as he can, but he can faintly smell Jean’s cheap cologne on the shirt she’s wearing - which is also Jean's - and it’s making his head buzz.

“Hmm, I'm a little surprised.. I didn’t think you had it in you to confess to that, Bott,” Hitch practically purrs, and when she suddenly brushes her hands over his chest Marco’s face is suddenly burning with more than indignation. Jean, the guy she’d spent the night with, was still sleeping not ten feet away from where they stood.

“Looks like you don’t know much about me or Jean,” Marco retorts, and he straightens up a little when he sees the way Hitch’s eyes flash. These could be dangerous waters he’s treading into, but Marco can barely find it in himself to care. People like Hitch set his teeth on edge; friends, with or without benefits, were still people who deserved to be treated with respect and compassion. They weren’t toys to be played with and discarded once their novelty had worn off.

Maybe it was a little hypocritical of him, since he and Reiner’s current ‘relationship’ was just an outlet for their own frustrations, but Reiner was still his friend and confidant, and Marco had no intentions of just 'dumping' him completely once they sorted their personal issues out. He’d still consider Reiner to be a close friend, and he was sure that the blond boy would do the same.

“Well, who knows, Bott,” Hitch muses quietly, and Marco tenses again when she trails her hand further down his chest. “Maybe someday soon you and I will learn a little more about each other..” Marco feels the anger flare in his chest again, and he clenches his jaw as he pushes Hitch’s hand away from him.

People who left after those around them ‘lost’ their value were the kinds of people that nearly ruined Jean’s life.

“You’re not my type,” Marco replies curtly as he steps to the side and walks past her, and it takes every ounce of self-control he has to keep himself from slamming his bedroom door shut behind him.

.~.

Marco doesn’t remember lying back down, let alone falling back asleep, but when he opens his eyes again it’s nearly past noon. Marco sits up with a quiet curse, rubbing his eyes and brushing a hand through his tousled hair with a quiet sigh. What had he been doing before he..?

_Hitch._

Marco scowls as her name flashes across his mind. He'd never been overly fond of her for obvious reasons, but her actions towards him earlier that day had cemented his disdain for the girl. Even if she _wasn't_ sleeping with the guy that Marco currently had a massive crush on, with said guy also being his best friend, her kind of behavior wasn't the kind that Marco could willingly tolerate. The worst part was that he couldn't even confront Jean about it. They might've just been a classmates-with-benefits deal, as Jean often remarked, but Marco knew that _he_ wouldn't like hearing rumors that Reiner was trying to grope other guys while he slept in the other room.

 _Just forget about her_ , Marco tells himself as he climbs out of his bed, grabbing the closest pair of pants he can find and pulling them on over his boxers. _She's not worth worrying about.._

When he steps out of his room there’s, thankfully, no sign of Hitch anywhere, and instead he’s greeted by the sight of Jean sitting at the table with his head propped up in one hand and gripping a steaming cup of with the other. For a moment Marco thinks he'd fallen asleep again, but Jean perks his head up a little when he hears the sound of Marco's door opening.

“Marco, why’s the sun so damn bright?” Jeans asks for what felt like the twentieth time since they’d moved in, and Marco just answers his question with a fond smile as he pours the last of the pot of coffee into his own mug. He doesn’t really want it – Jean always made the coffee too strong for his liking – but after growing up in his crowded household Marco knows better than to just pour coffee down the drain. He could only imagine what his mother would do if she saw such a waste..

“Good morning to you too, Jean.. Did you sleep well?” Marco asks Jean out of habit, and he bites the inside of his cheek as soon as the words are out of his mouth. The sudden thought of Hitch’s continued presence after he'd fallen back asleep makes Marco's stomach sink. Had she mentioned anything about their earlier confrontation? Marco hadn’t been in the wrong but he knew that Hitch could and would twist a story around without hesitation.

But Jean just gives him a noncommittal grunt and a shrug, and Marco relaxes a little as he pours some sugar into his coffee. Good.. Looked like he was safe from _that_ particular confrontation for at least another day.

“Took forever for Hitch to fuckin’ leave this mornin',” Jean mutters, his words nearly cut off by a loud yawn, and Marco’s spoon clatters loudly against the side of his mug as it slips from his grip. “She’s like those fuckin’ stray cat that you feed once and then they never go away.. Except instead of dead birds and shit, they give you sex.”

“I.. I guess I wouldn’t know about that,” Marco replies as he turns away from the counter and sits down in his usual seat beside Jean. “Not really a one-night stand kind of guy, you know? Not that there’s anything wrong with it!” Marco adds hastily when Jean raises an eyebrow. “It’s just.. not me.”

_Only because you can run back to Reiner's bed when things get tough._

“Maybe it’s a good thing you don’t have one-night stands, Marco,” Jean remarks with a lazy smile, and Marco tries to focus on his conversation with Jean instead of the thoughts humming in the back of his mind. “The last thing we’d need is to for them to be lounging around here all day and becoming besties while we slept.”

“Yeah, can you imagine coming out and seeing Hitch sitting here with someone like Thomas?” Marco chuckles quietly, but he freezes the second he realizes what he’d just said. Had he just..? 

Jean looks over at him sharply, brow furrowing, and Marco prays that he’s actually still asleep in his bed and so _hadn’t_ just made an unintended confession and please let the ground open up and swallow him right now.. Jean is still staring at him, and Marco looks away, feeling his face starting to turn red again. He bites his lower lip nervously, trying to figure out how to play his words off as a slip of the tongue but he looks up in surprise when Jean suddenly scoffs.

“Thomas, as in _Thomas Wagner_?” Jean asks with a shake of his head. “Damn Marco, I thought you had _way_ higher standards than that.”

…Wait, what?

“I.. You don’t think.. What?” Marco mutters, suddenly unable to form any other coherent sentences, and Jean takes another sip of his coffee before scoffing again and holding one hand up defensively.

“I mean if you like the guy then you like him. Thomas is pretty easy on the eyes, but like I said, I feel like you could do better than a crew cut and sideburns. Like Samuel, from our.. Actually nevermind, he looks too much like you, it'd be weird. Oh, what about that Marlowe guy from your drafting class? Yeah, he’s got a fucking weird ass haircut, but I saw him doing some laps in the pool the other day, and he’s definitely bangable if you're into bowl cuts-”

“Jean..”

“-and I’m not even sure if bangable is a legit word but what the fuck ever. But hey, like I said a guy like you could probably have first pick, but they’d have to pass the patented Jean Kirstein test. I’m not letting my best friend get taken advantage of by some thirty-year-old midget or something, so-

“Jean!” Marco cuts in more sharply than he’d intended and Jean falls silent, blinking in surprise. Marco holds his gaze, heart pounding in his chest, and he licks his lips before speaking. “You.. I mean, you know that I’m gay?" Jean stares at him, his smile slowly sliding off of his face.

“Well, yeah, of course I knew.. Look Marco, I know I’m not exactly the brainiest of the group, but c’mon, you’ve gotta give me some credit here. There's been a shit ton of signs that even _I_ could pick up on, like how you’ve never had a girlfriend, you've never even openly crushed on a girl, you watched 'Mamma Mia!' religiously in high school, you-"

“Hey, I had a kinda-sorta crush on Christa when we met!”

“She doesn’t count anymore; we’ve all had crushes on Christa. Even Reiner liked her for a while, and I’m pretty sure the last woman he was inside was his mom, and wow, that just gave me a _bad_ mental picture so don’t ever let me say that phrase again-”

“Jean.” Marco interrupts, his face briefly flushing at the mention of the blond boy’s name. “You’re getting off topic.”

“Yeah, that almost got away from me,” Jean shrugs before downing the last of his coffee with a satisfied sigh. “Point is Marco, I’ve known you were gay since about halfway through sophomore year, and I don’t give a shit. I didn’t look at you different or thing bad things about you, and you didn’t somehow change in my mind just because I realized you weren’t straight. You’ve always been the same guy. You’ve always been _my_ Marco.”

Maybe Marco blushes at that, maybe he doesn’t.

“Okay, but.. Jean, why haven’t you ever said anything about it before?” Marco demands, almost laughing at the sudden rush of relief he feels, but now Jean looks more annoyed than confused as he turns in his seat to face the freckled boy.

“Why would I need to?” Jean asks, crossing his arms and frowning. “Like I said, it didn’t change anything. You’ve been my best friend since you plopped down beside me on that wet bus and then didn’t shut up until we got to school, even if I didn't realize it then. Besides, if I’d said anything, maybe it would’ve seemed like I _needed_ to confront you about it and I don’t, so I just.. Holy fuck, dude, are you _crying_?!”

“No, no!” Marco quickly says when he sees the look of panic passing over Jean’s face, and Marco gives him a reassuring smile as he brushes the back of his hand over his watering eyes. “It’s not bad, Jean, I swear, I just.. I’m happy.”

“Happy?” Jean repeats with a skeptical frown, and Marco gives him another reassuring smile. “You.. Look, if I just said anything to upset you Marco, I’m really sorry-”

“It’s the opposite, Jean,” Marco sighs, and though Jean still looks a little skeptical the furrow in his brow noticeably softens. “I've just spent all this time thinking that you didn’t know about me being gay and dreading the day you found out.. I guess it’s stupid, huh? Thinking that you’d stop being my best friend because of my sexuality..”

Jean doesn’t answer, and Marco feels his smile fade as the seconds stretch out between them, and he can’t ignore the nervous flutter in his stomach that’s slowly growing stronger. Had _he_ said something wrong?

“Pretty damn stupid,” Jean scoffs just as Marco opens his mouth to speak, and the freckled boy feels a surge of relief when Jean turns back around in his chair to face his empty coffee cup again. “I got news for you Freckles; you’ll have to do a hell of a lot worse than like dick to get rid of me.”

_Like picturing you in my mind when I’m sleeping with another one of your best friends?_

“Like I’d ever want to get rid of you, Jean,” Marco replies, and when Jean looks his way Marco raises his coffee mug to his face to hide his blush. “Besides, someone definitely has to protect me from thirty-year-old midgets.” Marco beams as Jean bursts out laughing, and he feels the warm flush on his spreads throughout his whole body as his listens to the warm laughter echoing throughout their kitchen.

_You’re such a hot mess right now, Bott.._

  
.~.

“You look like a hot mess right now, Bott.”

“I’m an adult, Eren, I can look like a hot mess if I want to,” Marco mutters as he raises his head from the table, wincing when the librarian passes by and reprimands him with a sharp shush. Marco waits until she’s out of sight to heave a heavy sigh and sink back in his chair. Armin frowns at Eren and his usual lack of tact but otherwise makes no reprimands for Eren to ignore, and instead the blond boy turns his focus back to the psychology textbook in front of him.

“You’re not still sulking about that thing with Jean and Hitch, are you?” Eren asks, and Marco chokes on air, his face turning red as he gapes at the brunet boy sitting across from him. Eren, of course, just stares back calmly. “You are, aren't you? Jeez, it was like a damn week ago, Marco..”

“It was actually two days ago, Eren,” Armin pipes up helpfully, rubbing his temples after jotting down a few lines into the notebook beside him. Eren leans across the table to read what Armin had written and seems to absorb about two words before blinking and leaning back in his seat.

“Thing with.. I’m not.. Eren, how did you even find out about that?!” Marco demands after a moment of stunned silence, completely red-faced, and Eren just shoots Armin an unreadable look before shrugging.

“Ymir told me about it the other night and she said that it’s probably what’s bothering you. I think she wants us to give you a pep talk or something, and if she does then I’m just gonna leave all that comforting shit to Armin. It's not really my thing, y'know?”

“As kind as he is eloquent,” Armin sighs from behind his book, and Marco just continues to gape at Eren.

“Why would Ymir say something to you about.. Wait a minute, I didn’t even tell her about it!”

“Really? I’ve got the text from her right here,” Eren says, fishing his phone from his jacket pocket and fiddling it with a moment before thrusting it into Marco’s face, and the freckled boy nearly goes cross-eyed as he tries to focus on the message that's pulled up on the screen on Eren's phone. “See? She sent it to me on Tuesday..”

“Wha-? Wait, it happened on Wednesday, how the hell is that text possible?!”

“Shit, I don’t know Marco! Maybe it’s another one of her lesbian superpowers,” Eren shrugs, “You know, like how she can randomly sense other lesbians in public and wear cargo shorts without looking like a femdouche.”

“Her supreme homo powers are to be feared and admired,” Armin agrees with a solemn nod, and Marco lets out an exasperated groan, rubbing his face and mourning the fact that he had been cursed with a cousin who had the worst personality imaginable.

“Great, so now Ymir knows about it, which means that at least half of my friends know about it by now..” Marco sighs, dropping his head back onto the table with a thud that makes Armin cringe. “If Jean even gets word of it then he’ll confront me and want to know _why_ his relationship with Hitch is bothering me and I don't have a reliable excuse handy.. Any other way that this day can get worse?”

“Yo, Marco!”

_Oh fuck him._

“Shh!” the librarian snarls, shooting Jean a fierce scowl over her thick-rimmed glasses as he strides across the library to approach their table. Jean gives her an apologetic shrug and then flips her off as soon as her back is turned. 

“'Sup Marco, Armin,” Jean nods as he pulls one of the unoccupied chair out to sit down, and Marco and Armin both raise an eyebrow when Jean bumps Eren to the side with his hips as he does.

“You know there's no animals allowed in the library, horse-face,” Eren growls as he straightens up, and he lets out an indignant yelp when Jean shoves the hood of his jacket over his head.

“Fuck off, Jaeger,” Jean remarks, leaning back in his seat as Eren straightens up and pushes his hood back. He glares at Jean for a full fifteen seconds before the corner of Jean’s mouth twitches and they both burst into loud snickers that bring the wrathful librarian back their way. Marco and Armin both tuck themselves behind their books, feigning concentration while they listen to Eren and Jean receive a stern lecture about the importance of a quiet and healthy study environment, and by the time she strides away even Armin is having trouble with keeping his face passive.

“You got us in trouble, asshole,” Eren mutters once the coast is clear again, and Jean just scoffs, tilting his chair back while keeping a watchful eye out for the librarian's inconvenient return. Marco and Armin finally let out the quiet giggles they’d been stifling and they only get louder when Jean and Eren both shoot them looks of utter betrayal.

“Wow, no such thing as a sense of loyalty anymore. We have such shitty friends, Jaeger.” Jean sighs as he pats the brunet’s shoulder with more force than necessary, making Eren scowl. “Also, _you_ started it that time.”

“Like hell I did, Kirstein! You were the one that-!”

“Eren, Jean, you’re both pretty, now will you please quiet down before we get kicked out,” Armin tries to snap but it comes out as more of a plea, and Jean and Eren both scowl as they slump back into their seats. Marco can hear them kicking at each other under the table now, and he exchanges an exasperated but fond look with Armin.

Why did they ever befriend those idiots?

“So what’re you doing here anyway, Jean?” Marco asks as he flips his drafting notebook open to a fresh page. “Your classes are over for the day so I figured you’d be at home making a mess for me to clean up right now.”

“For the last damn time I swept up that Kool-Aid powder myself! Besides, can’t I visit my best friend just because I miss him?” Jean asks with a pout, and Marco stares at him deadpan for a few seconds before sighing.

“..You locked your keys in the house again, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah I did.”

“Dumbass,” Eren snickers as Marco sighs and retrieves his own house key from his pocket and tosses it to Jean. Jean catches it before he dignifies Eren’s remark with another raised finger, which prompts another brief scolding from Armin that goes unheard by all but Marco.

“I’ll leave the front door unlocked for you Marco,” Jean says as he pushes himself up from his chair, “And I’ll put it in your usual and obvious hiding place. Later Armin, fuck off Jaeger.”

“Go die, Horse-Face,” Eren replies with a pleasant smile with turns into an angry grimace when Jean flips his hoodie onto his head again. Armin just sighs again but Marco chuckles with an amused shake of his head. He can almost hear Armin wishing that Mikasa were there with them, since even those two knew better than to publicly misbehave when she was around.

“By the way. don’t wait up for me when you get back, Marco,” Jean calls over his shoulder, walking faster when he spots the librarian stalking his way. “I’ll have some overnight company coming over, so I’ll probably see you in the morning!”

Armin’s half-hearted wave falters, and even Eren shoots the freckled boy a look of sympathy when the smile suddenly drops from Marco's face. There's a long moment of silence before Eren sighs and opens his mouth to say something, but Armin cuts him off with a sharp shake of his head. Marco gives Armin a strained smile to show his gratitude, one that the blond doesn’t return with much enthusiasm, and the words are nothing but a blur when Marco looks back at his homework.

Armin and Eren are being quiet now and the silence buzzing in his ears is giving Marco more of a headache that any talking ever had. With a huff, he finally pushes his textbook away from him and fishes his cellphone from his pocket. Eren glances over at him as Marco starts typing out a message, his green eyes shining with curiosity, but Armin keeps his gaze down and focused on the book in front of him.

“So.. who're you texting over there, Marco?” Eren asks after a few more moments of thick silence, and Marco almost smiles at how obvious the forced casualness in Eren’s tone is.

“Reiner,” Marco replies as he presses the send button on his phone, and he focuses on keeping his gaze on the screen after he notices Armin watching him from the corner of his eyes. “I'm just.. asking for his help with a tough assignment.”

Yeah, that was one way of putting it.

.~.

 


End file.
